


10 Spouses for 10 Dwarves

by Ninquetolliel (Witty_Whit)



Series: 10 Spouses [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Awesome Dwalin, Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, BAMF Legolas, BAMF Lobelia, Bad Ideas, Bilbo Is Awesome, Canon Disabled Character, Character Death Fix, Comfort, Courtship, Crack, Cultural Differences, Deception, Drama, Dwalin Is A Softie, Dwarf Courting, Dwarves, Elves, Erebor, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Food, Gardens & Gardening, Happy Ending, Hobbit Courting, Hobbits, Humor, Kidnapping, Libraries, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Misunderstandings, Nice Lobelia, Protective Bilbo, Protective Dwalin, Protectiveness, Rare Characters, Rare Pairings, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Sassy Bilbo, Teaching, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Thorin Is an Idiot, War, Wordcount: 50.000-100.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:51:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 61,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witty_Whit/pseuds/Ninquetolliel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hobbit meets Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.</p><p>Dwalin is looking for a companion on the quest to take back Erebor. He manages to convinces one Bilbo Baggins to marry him. However, he neglects to mention that he'll be traveling with twelve other messy, grumpy dwarves, the periously journey, or most importantly, a dragon waiting for him at the end. Bilbo is not pleased, but he does his best to take care of his new, wild dwarf family and maybe teach them some manners along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Planning

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you familiar with the movie – yes, there will be kidnappings once they get to Erebor, fighting with the townsfolk/elves, Bilbo teaching the dwarves manners, Thorin acting like a pompous oaf, Ori being the super adorable Gideon, color-coordinated shirts/hoods, and an avalanche.
> 
> I cannot promise barn-raisings, dance fights (but if there’s a way, it’ll happen), or toe-tapping musical numbers.
> 
> More or less, I have the pairings all picked out, but I’m keeping them a secret for now. The older/married dwarves will not be paired up.
> 
> Tags, pairings, and characters will be added as I write. The rating may go up as well, but I will put in a warning.

The sun was shining brightly on the Shire when Dwalin pulled off his cloak to cool down. He paused his journey for a moment, breathing in the fresh air that was so different and sweeter from the dank air he had grown used to. A family of hobbits was walking down the lane towards him – father, mother, and Mahal preserve him, eight wee hobbits skipping and laughing behind them. Dwalin tried to work his face into something pleasant; he knew hobbits were gentler than dwarves, and he didn’t want to frighten them.

Though looking a bit wary, the father bowed as he led the way past Dwalin. The mother curtseyed and the children all stopped and stared in a cluster around him, until their mother called for them to come along.

There was just something about hobbits; Dwalin couldn’t quite figure it out what it was. It was something warm and homey and comforting; all of them had it, even the little ones. There were so many little ones Dwalin could scarcely believe it. They all had bright, open faces, unfilled with mistrust and struggle like so many of his kind. Their often curly hair, homespun frocks, and cheery smiles warmed Dwalin’s heart. This whole lovely place made Dwalin long for something that he hadn’t thought of in ages – a family of his own or at least companionship.

What would it be like – to travel with a partner on their journey, instead a whole passel of dwarves, gruff, dirty, often selfish, though brave and stalwart? Dwalin knew Gandalf already had a hobbit-burglar ready to go with them, which would be interesting in itself, but he found himself wishing he could have one of his own. What an intriguing idea to take a sweet, little bride with him to take care of and be cared for by as well.

Though, he thought watching a giggling group of blushing hobbit lasses chasing a gaggle of geese, perhaps a groom would be preferable – someone bit hardier and steadier for the rough journey ahead. He hoped Gandalf knew what he was about; these hobbits hardly looked the type for a hike let alone a dangerous journey. (Never mind the seeming impossibility of one of the creatures living a life of crime.)

As Dwalin continued on his way, the thought stuck with him. He began to notice the various hobbits all about, and, hardly without meaning to, began considering them as prospects for future companionship.

A sturdy-looking hobbit male was pounding in a fence post down the lane a bit. Now there was one who looked more suited for a long journey – and was that just a bit of stubbly beard down his cheeks? It was nothing compared to even the youngest dwarves (here Dwalin gave his own regal beard a stroke), but for a hobbit, it was quite impressive. While he was considering the almost-bearded hobbit, Dwalin didn’t notice the wee hobbit lass jumping on the hobbit’s back, until she started squealing, “Daddy, Daddy, Mama wants you!” Dwalin laughed under his breath – he was married then.

Farther down the lane, he passed a group of youngish hobbits, male and female. When Dwalin passed them, some stared and some smiled, but they all were dressed in foppish lace or delicate fabric. Dwalin bowed, deciding that they were all too fancy for his taste.

The next candidate was a taller hobbit female, almost reaching Dwalin’s shoulder. She smiled broadly at Dwalin, obviously not afraid. 

Dwalin grinned, leaning towards the lady. “Mornin,’ ma’am.” 

“Mornin,’ Mister Dwarf,” she said with a coy bat of her eyes.

Feeling emboldened, Dwalin went on, “Nice day for marryin.’”

A hobbit boy that Dwalin had not noticed lurking near the girl, popped up and said, “That’s a right good idea.”

The girl spun towards him and threw her arms around him, “Oh, Lem! I thought you’d never ask me!”

The two kissed, and Dwalin frowned, but he was not at all deterred.

Next came a lovely hobbit male with golden curls, bright green eyes, and the sweetest blush across his cheeks that came when he smiled at Dwalin. But Dwalin kept walking; he was indeed lovely, but too slim and delicate. Shortly after him came a hobbit lass; she was a bit older, but no taller than Dwalin’s belt. Not the right size, thought Dwalin, he’s got to be just right for me.

A thunking sound caught Dwalin’s attention. Across the lane was a male hobbit chopping wood. A bit nicer dressed than one should be when chopping wood, the hobbit was working up a good sweat, his motions more enthusiastic than accurate. The hobbit was older than the others Dwalin had considered, but not too old. He was of average height for a hobbit (so quite a bit shorter than Dwalin), with sandy hair, and a determined look on his face.

While Dwalin was watching a young hobbit female, very nicely dressed, came up to the hobbit. Dwalin sighed, another married one or maybe these two were only courting and Dwalin could accidentally push them into an engagement. However, when the woman came up to the hobbit, she started scolding him. Dwalin wasn’t entirely sure what she was going on about, something to do with unsuitable work and inappropriate acquaintances and lowering oneself.

However, the hobbit’s response was clear, “Shame on you, Lobelia. There’s nothing improper about helping out a friend when they need it, even if you yourself wouldn’t invite them over for tea. Hamfast and Bell will be back tomorrow, so you only have until then to whine about it.”

Lobelia crossed her arms and sniffed, “It simply isn’t proper.”

The hobbit, waved his arms shooing her away. “Be off with you!” Lobelia glared for a bit longer, tugged her braid, and then strode away. The hobbit shook his head and chuckled, wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, and continued splitting the last bit of wood. Dwalin watched him stack most of it in a semi-neat pile, before grabbing a few logs and leaving the yard, walking down the lane.

Now that was a hobbit – kind, generous, hard-working, full of integrity, and with quite a bit of sass. Dwalin smiled. Before this moment, Dwalin had only been playing a game, amusing himself with thoughts of finding the right partner, but now that he found one, so seemingly perfect, his mad idea seemed perfect.

Now if only the hobbit hadn’t wandered off while Dwalin was pondering.

Where had his perfect hobbit gone to?


	2. The Wooing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin meets his hobbit.

For at least twenty minutes Dwalin trailed around the Shire, hoping to catch a glimpse of his hobbit (and how quickly he had begun to think of the hobbit as _his_!). Before giving up, he briefly considered knocking on doors and asking for his hobbit, but “male, curly hair, about yea high, and sassy as can be” did not seem like enough of a description to go on.

It was growing late, and Dwalin did have a job to do. Gandalf had sent him several days ahead of the others to find this burglar-hobbit, convince him to come with them on their quest, and then get him ready to go. Shouldn’t be too difficult… once he found the place.

Why did the Shire have to be located all around rolling hills with twisting paths leading to secretive doors? It had grown dark by the time Dwalin finally found the round, green door with Gandalf’s rune on it. Sighing, Dwalin opened the thigh-height hobbit gate and started up the steps. His stomach rumbled; Dwalin hadn’t eaten all day. Hopefully, the rumors of hobbit appetites were at least someone what true, and Dwalin would soon be sitting down to supper, he thought as he knocked briskly on the door.

As the door started to open, Dwalin started to bow in greeting, when he saw who was opening the door. It was _his hobbit_. Dwalin froze for a moment; his hobbit appeared frozen as well, staring at him with his brilliant blue-brown-gold eyes. (Now there was a color Dwalin would be hard-pressed to find a gem suitable for an accurate comparison.) Dwalin remembered where he was and bowed, putting a smile on his face, while stating, “Dwalin son of Fundin, at your service.”

As Dwalin rose, his hobbit gave a little start, but bow quickly in response, “Bilbo Baggins, at yours.”

Bilbo Baggins – now there was an excellent name for such an excellent hobbit. Dwalin smiled at the hobbit and ducked to walk in his little hobbit home. “This is a nice place, Master Baggins,” he said, deciding to keep things formal at first. Of course, it wasn’t as nearly as nice as their home in Erebor would be once they reclaimed it and once he convinced Bilbo to accompany and marry him. He pulled off his cloak and pack and handed them to Bilbo, who had shut the door and was now standing by nervously. Bilbo graciously took his things and hung them on sturdy hooks.

Dwalin was looking around the little house, when the smell of supper called to him. Finding the dining room, Dwalin sat down at the table in front of a plate of fish and some plant-like things – not nearly what he expected. Still food was food – if this was in fact food. Dwalin poked at the greenery with his fork. “Got any ketchup?” he asked Bilbo.

“My food can stand on its own,” said his hobbit firmly. Dwalin raised an eyebrow at the hobbit, who hovered beside him. Bravely, Dwalin took a bite and then another and then one more, before grunting, “Mmmm, good,” and giving the hobbit an appreciative glance.

That sold him – anyone who could cook this well was a treasure, even if you discounted all of Bilbo’s other wonderful traits. One of which was his lovely hands, bringing him more food – light fluffy biscuits, potatoes, another couple of fish, bread and jam, more greenery and other colored plants, eggs, a thick stew, and more and more, until Dwalin was quite satisfied and his hobbit quite exhausted.

“Thank you, Master Baggins. You are, by far, the best cook I’ve ever met,” said Dwalin, rising.

Looking up from his own finished plate, Bilbo smiled and said, “Thank you, Master Dwalin.”

Dwalin grinned and started piling plates into his arms. “What are you doing?” squeaked Bilbo as Dwalin balanced a tea cup on the top of his stack of dishes.

“Dishes,” said Dwalin, bemused. “You cooked – I clean.”

“That’s really not necessary,” fussed Bilbo, as Dwalin found the sink in the kitchen. Dwalin gave his hobbit a teasing, little glare, and Bilbo sat down hurriedly in the nearest chair. “Go ahead then. Just please be careful with my mother’s glassware.” Dwalin’s hands might be rough and battle-ready, but they were perfectly capable of handling delicate things like glassware… or sassy hobbits.

Dwalin snapped out of his daydream and caught the last bit of what Bilbo was asking, “…why have you come here? – not meaning any rudeness whatsoever, Master Dwarf.”

“What did Gandalf tell you?” asked Dwalin after a moment and after setting down a dry plate on the counter.

“Gandalf sent you!? Oh, that meddling wizard,” Bilbo huffed, getting up to hand Dwalin a drier towel. “All he said was something about going on an adventure and was, I dare say, somewhat rude and vague about the whole business. So I sent him on his way, well, as much as one can send a wizard on his way.”

Where to begin? “Have you ever heard of Erebor?” asked Dwalin after adding more hot water into the sink.

“Erebor?” Bilbo scratched his curls which made them tumble in a most fetching manner. “I’m not sure—is it a dwarven place?—I’m afraid I’ve studied the elvish maps a bit more.”

Dwalin humphed and said, “Erebor is—was—soon will be again one of the greatest dwarven kingdoms on Middle-earth. It is my home and will soon be again when we—journey back there.” It would be difficult, but Dwalin needed to explain things slowly to Bilbo as to not frighten him, and it would be best to avoid words like ‘retake,’ ‘dragon,’ ‘laid to waste,’ ‘massacre,’ or ‘burnt to ashes.’ Better to get him excited before revealing the dangers.

“What happened to Erebor?”

Blast.

“My people and I were forced to leave Erebor in a time of great sorrow. We wandered the land until many of us settled in Ered Luin.”

“Oh, the Blue Mountains,” interpreted Bilbo, though he did look a bit skeptical about the ambiguousness of the rest of the story.

“Yes, and now we have decided it is time to journey back to Erebor and return to our homeland.”

“So, you’ve decided to travel through the Shire to… what? pick up supplies for your journey?”

“Exactly. Gandalf will be joining us. He sent me to your house first, of course.”

Bilbo rubbed his head again in a most distracting way. “Why ‘of course?’ Not that I mind the company or hearing a good tale, but why did Gandalf send you to my house in particular?”

“Well, Gandalf mentioned your special skills and how useful you’d be in Erebor.”

“What ‘special skills?’” squeaked Bilbo, but Dwalin went on.

“The journey is long, but not too dangerous, at least when you’re with me. I’ll keep you safe.” Here Dwalin gave a rakish smile. Bilbo’s eyes grew wide. “Erebor is a wondrous place – you will absolutely love it there. It’s been abandoned for a good while, so we’ll have to build it back up and clean it out, but soon it will be one of the greatest kingdoms in Middle-earth.” Dwalin went on, describing his memories of his home, while Bilbo listened, a soft, contemplative look on his face.

Finally, Dwalin stopped, and Bilbo smiled softly at him. “I’ll have to think about it – sleep on it, if you will. You’ll be staying the night, of course. Follow me, and I’ll find you a guest bedroom.”

Dwalin grinned broadly as he followed his little hobbit through his home. Bilbo was half in love with Erebor already, and his dreams tonight would be full of adventure and excitement. The next morning, he would ask Bilbo to come with him and press his own personal suit. After explaining where everything was, Bilbo left him in a nice room, a bit smaller than Dwalin was used to, but he fit well enough.

“Well, goodnight, Master Dwalin. Sleep as long as you like. I have to get up fairly early – I’ve been taking care of a neighbor’s stock while he’s on honeymoon, but I’ll be back quick to make you a big second breakfast.”

“Goodnight, Master Baggins. Promise me that you’ll think on journeying with me?”

Bilbo flushed, starry eyed. “I promise. Goodnight.”

Dwalin grinned as he shut the door. He’d say he was a good bit over halfway in with his dear little hobbit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am using an anachronistic ketchup as a plot device.


	3. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin and Bilbo waste no time once they've made up their minds.

The next morning, Dwalin woke to a door being shut. Remember where he was, he figured Bilbo must be out tending to his neighbor’s. He considered getting up, but since the first light of dawn was only beginning to peer in through the shutters, he decided to stay in bed. After these few short days – it would be a long time until he slept in a real bed again, especially one as nice as this – deep and soft and covered with hand-stitched quilts.

However, after a few minutes of daydreaming, Dwalin decided he wasn’t about to go back to sleep and wanted to see his hobbit. So he got up and got dressed, choosing only a lighter shirt and pants instead of his normal, heavy travel gear. Finding a plate of biscuits and jam sitting on the table, he grabbed a couple and read the note Bilbo had left for them.

“If you wake, Master Dwalin, help yourself to whatever you like. I shall return around 8:00 and prepare a more filling breakfast. If you need me, I’ll be two hills down to the right; follow the path and stay to the right of the fork.  
Sincerely, Bilbo”

It was time to find Bilbo. After brushing any crumbs off his beard and shirt, Dwalin headed out, closing the round door firmly behind it. The sun was appearing low to the east, and rosy clouds were moving slowly across the sky. Dwalin didn’t see any other hobbits up yet and found his way to Bilbo directly.

Bilbo was sitting away from him on a stool, milking a short, round cow. He was humming under his breath and his cheek rested against the cow’s side to easier reach the udder, and Dwalin found the sight charming. Walking quietly to not disturb his hobbit, Dwalin came around the back of the cow and leaned over the top of it.

“Good morning,” said Dwalin.

Bilbo gave a little jump and pulled back from the cow before chuckling and saying, “Good morning to you, Master Dwalin. I see you must have found something to eat since you found my note.”

“I did indeed. Now whose cow is this?”

“My dear friend and gardener’s, Hamfast’s. He just got married a week ago, and part of my wedding present was to look after his home. It’s been fairly easy, milking Flossie here, feeding her and the chickens, and picking any ripe vegetables from their garden. I’m not used to this ‘hard labor,’ but it’s been fun, though I am glad it’s only for a week. They’re to come back later today.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“Not at all. I haven’t minded at all, and Flossie’s a patient girl.” Bilbo gave Flossie a pat and started milking her again.

Dwalin rested his arms on Flossie’s broad back and leaned against her so he could better see Bilbo. “Erebor is an amazing place. And when we get there, I’ll be a lord. I’ll have power and gold of my own. I’m good friends with our king as well.” Bilbo nodded and smiled, but didn’t seem very impressed. What would sway a hobbit? “It might be a grand kingdom, but there are many rooms and homes – many quite cozy. There’s a market and warm kitchens and a huge library.” Bilbo’s eyes brightened at that. “But you might like it outside more. Dwarves have never been much for growing things, so you could garden anywhere you wanted up and down mountain.” Bilbo laughed at that.

Certain he had his hobbit’s interest, Dwalin asked, “How ‘bout it?”

Bilbo paused milking and looked at him, brow furrowed, “How about what?”

“How ‘bout marryin’ me?”

Bilbo’s face immediately turned bright red, from his neck to the tips of his pointed ears. He looked down and started milking Flossie, quicker this time.

Dwalin heaved a great sigh. “I know this must be so unusual. I don’t know how hobbits court, but it can take dwarves years and years of expensive courting gifts and going out on walks and sitting in parlors before a couple is even allowed to get engaged. But I haven’t got time for that. I’m leaving in two days. Chances are it’ll be years before I’ll have time to think about marryin’ again. And I’ll probably never back to the Shire to come courting you all formal-like. You wouldn’t keep me waiting like that, would you?”

Bilbo’s hands slowed and a look of great concentration was on his face. He looked up a Dwalin, carefully noting his soft smile and hopeful eyes behind his rather intimidating beard and brow. What would his family and neighbors think? He had been seriously considering going on an adventure, but getting married to this (admittedly strong and handsome, if rough) fellow as well? The entire Shire would have something to gossip about for generations to come.

He didn’t know what it was – ennui, mischievousness, or audacity – but something in him was making it sound like this was a very good, if not at all sensible, idea.

So Bilbo, still a bit flushed, looked up at Dwalin, and said firmly, “I’d have to finish my chores.”

The grin on Dwalin’s face was almost blinding. “I’ll go get cleaned up and root out Gandalf.” He paused, giving Bilbo one more smile, before patting Flossie and hurrying off.

Bilbo finished milking Flossie, waiting for regret to wash over him. It wasn’t too late; he’d just have to apologize to Master Dwalin and tell him he’d gotten flustered and excited and forgot himself.

But the feeling of remorse didn’t come.

Bilbo felt excited and overly warm and daring, but he didn’t feel regret. He set Flossie in her pen after giving her a quick rubdown. He fed the chickens and made sure they had enough water. Then he brought the pail of milk and basket of vegetables that he’d picked earlier back to Bag End. Everything went into the cellar.

Taking a deep breath, Bilbo listened for Dwalin, but he appeared to be alone. He went into his bedroom and from his wardrobe pulled out his nicest pair of clothes. After giving himself a quick rub with a washcloth, he got dressed.

When he finished, he stared at himself in the mirror. He expected to see himself looking anxious or shocked, but his eyes were sparkling, his cheeks were flushed, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Bilbo let out a laugh – still no regret.

The front door opened, and Dwalin called, “Master Bilbo, are you in here? You haven’t run off, have ya?”

Bilbo walked out calmly. “I’m here.”

Dwalin stared at him for a moment before saying, “You look very nice.”

Bilbo smiled. “So do you.” And he did; though still big and somewhat fearsome, Dwalin had brushed his beard so that it hung neatly and straightened his clothes, though it was obvious that they were rough traveling clothes. But his eyes and smile were most handsome.

Dwalin walked up to him and put his hands on Bilbo’s upper arms. Bilbo started a bit at the contact – it was the first time that they’d touched and his hands were so big and strong and… Bilbo blushed. Dwalin bent down a bit and looked into Bilbo’s eyes. “You sure you want this, laddie? You can change your mind and not come, or come with us and not marry me. I want you to make up your own mind.”

Calmly, Bilbo stated, “I’ve made up mind. You sure you want marry me?”

Dwalin grinned, “Of course, I do. When I first saw you yesterday chopping that wood and giving that snooty hobbit all that sass, I knew you were the right one for me. I’ll take good care of you, and you’ve already proved you’ll take good care of me. We’ll work out all the other details along the way.”

Bilbo nodded. “Did you find Gandalf?”

“Sure did. He’s over at that Thain fellow’s house. He seemed a might surprised, but I told him I’d fetch you and we’d sort it all out.”

“Well, I’m glad you found him. Let’s head over to the Thain’s house.”

They made it there quickly, and Fortinbras II, Thain of the Shire himself, opened the door and ushered them in. Inside was Fortinbras’s wife and family as well as some of Bilbo’s extended family. His cousins Drogo Baggins and Otho Sackville-Baggins were there as well as Otho’s fiancée, Lobelia Bracegirdle, looking sourer than usual. Everyone clustered around Bilbo (giving Dwalin a wide berth) until Gandalf, who had been sitting on a large chair in the corner rose and called out, “Here, here, everyone. Let them come in and explain themselves.”

The other hobbits moved back and against the walls, finding seats where they could, until Dwalin and Bilbo stood alone in the middle of the room. Bilbo cleared his throat to explain, but Dwalin spoke up first, explaining everything succinctly, “I’m going on a long journey to reclaim my homeland, and Bilbo is coming with me as my husband.”

The room exploded with questions and comments.

“What do you think you’re doing lad?”

“He’s a dwarf!”

“It simply isn’t done – a Baggins leaving the Shire and going on adventures! Nonsense.”

“I think it’s fantastic!”

“Who gets Bag End?”

“Now what is Bilbo doing?”

“I think it’s romantic.”

“Simply scandalous!”

“Now where is Bilbo going?”

“What would your parents say, young hobbit?”

“Otho gets Bag End, right?”

“I want to go too!”

“Now who is this big fellow?”

“Why is he covered in tattoos?”

“I always thought something was strange about you, Bilbo Baggins.”

“Mum, I want to go too!”

“Don’t even think about it!”

“Completely improper!”

“Now why does Bilbo want to marry the big fellow again?”

“Grandda,’ hush!”

“I’m hungry, and we are missing luncheon.”

“ **Enough**!” said Gandalf in a thunderous voice. “If you are going to remain in this room, you must keep quiet!” Once again, the hobbits sat and settled down. 

The Thain rose and said, “I’ll say it plain and to your face, Bilbo. I don’t like this one bit. I don’t know this dwarf or anything about him. I’ve known you since you were little, Bilbo, and ever since your parents died, I’ve kept an eye out for you. I don’t like the idea of you going on some wild adventure with this fellow. What are you thinking, Bilbo?”

“Sir, you’ve often been after me to get married. You said there was no point to me staying single and living all alone in Bag End. I tried accepting others’ courting gifts, but I’d say yes and a sinking feeling would come over me, and I couldn’t do it. But when Master Dwalin asked me, I waited for that feeling, but it didn’t come. I know this is a strange, life-changing decision, but I feel quite certain about it.” With a sweet smile, Bilbo looked up at Dwalin, who smiled right back.

“Very well then, if you’re quite sure,” said Fortinbras. “Gandalf, if you’ll say the words – and I’ll not hear a single word from the rest of you lot until we’re finished.”

Gandalf smiled and said, “Dwalin, if you’ll take Bilbo’s hands in yours…” and three minutes later Dwalin kissed Bilbo shyly on the cheek and they were married.


	4. The Feasting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we see the differences between hobbit table manners and dwarf table manners.

After Dwalin kissed Bilbo on the cheek, the extraordinarily well-behaved hobbits in the room erupted in cheers, congratulations, and only one or two annoyed mumbles. As Drogo came and shook Bilbo’s and Dwalin’s hands, Fortinbras shouted over the roar, “You two’ll stay for dinner! Just give the missus a few minutes to set the table!” Bilbo nodded as other well-wishers pushed forward, shaking hands, kissing cheeks, and slapping backs. When he had a moment, Bilbo spared a worried look at Dwalin, but he appeared to be handling all the commotion well.

Within minutes, they were ushered into the large dining room to where a wedding feast had been hastily thrown together by the Thain’s family. “It’s not much, Bilbo, dear – not nearly enough flowers – but I won’t see you going without the proper wedding feast,” said Fortinbras’s wife.

Bilbo grinned at her, eyes bright. “It’s lovely. Thank you all so much.”

“Nonsense,” she said, patting his cheek. “You and the big fellow sit at the foot of the table – you’ll have to share a bench – but there’ll be more elbow room down here.”

As soon as everyone was seated, Fortinbras said grace, and the hobbits quickly dug in to the feast. Before starting, Bilbo smiled at Dwalin, who had a look of amazement on his face. “Hobbits are most exceptional,” he said in Bilbo’s ear.

Bilbo smiled, and passed him a bowl of mashed potatoes. He shifted a bit, trying to get more comfortable on the bench, but to also surreptitiously squeeze in a little closer to Dwalin.

On Dwalin’s other side, a little hobbit lass poked Dwalin’s arm and pointed at the potatoes. “Do ya want me to put some on your plate, wee lassie?” The child nodded and made sure Dwalin gave her three spoonfuls. Dwalin spent the next few minutes making sure the little one had a large pile of food on her plate, before beginning to eat his own meal. As he ate and talked with his cousins, Bilbo noticed Dwalin’s sweetness and it warmed his heart.

After luncheon, the hobbits did not want the newlyweds to leave. Little hobbits kept running around their house trying to find wedding presents. The little one who had sat by Dwalin was now perched on his knees, seriously weaving flowers into his beard. It took a good half hour, but Bilbo finally managed to get Dwalin out the front door.

“Quick,” laughed Bilbo, “before they catch us again!” He led the way back to Bag End, stopping once to pick a bouquet of sorrel – to make a “real nourishing soup” for supper he claimed. Once safely inside, they emptied their pockets of gifts – buttons, pretty rocks, feathers, and bits of ribbon.

Dwalin looked at the little pile on Bilbo’s table. “I had no idea that I’d be so tempted to stay here.”

“Nonsense,” said Bilbo, as he pulled the flowers out of Dwalin’s beard. “We’ve got to reclaim your home. What did happen there anyway? It must be a sad tale.”

Dwalin shifted uncomfortably. “It’s a long story. Perhaps I’ll tell it at dinner. I’ve got to go see about buying some ponies and supplies before the others arrive. Why don’t you get your own things ready?”

“Oh my stars,” gasped Bilbo. “I’ve forgotten Bag End! What am I going to do with all my things? I can’t very well take them with, but I hate to part with them.” He looked so forlorn as he touched a picture frame, that Dwalin wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug.

“Don’t worry Master Bilbo. Find what you want for your trip. The rest can be packed into boxes and sent for when we get things settled. We’ll make our home in Erebor just as snug as your little hobbit hole.”

“’Hole!’” sniffed Bilbo, but then he smiled softly. “‘Our home’ does sound nice though.” Then he poked Dwalin in the side. “You should be calling me Bilbo now.”

“Of course, Bilbo. What about darling and sweetheart and dear?”

Bilbo rolled his eyes and laughed. “Stop it, you great big softie, you! Go on now; find some sturdy hobbit ponies. The Maggot family always has good stock, but you may need to purchase from several different places. He’s quite a bit of a walk away, but just ask any hobbit and they’ll direct you. I imagine the entire Shire has heard about you by now.” Feeling very daring, Bilbo put his hand on Dwalin’s face and said, “If any of them are nasty, don’t worry about it – hobbits are quick to judge and even quicker to realize their mistakes and forget all about them. I’ll stay here and pack. When you get back, I’ll have a nice supper waiting for you.”

A grin split across Dwalin’s face, and he leaned forward and kissed his astonished hobbit right on the lips. With that he turned and walked out of the hobbit hole, whistling merrily on his way. Cheeks red, Bilbo watched him walk down the hill before sighing to himself and whispering, “What a wonderful, wonderful day.”

He shut the door and got to work. He found his old rucksack, which he used to use for day hikes around the Shire, but hadn’t been used in years. On the very bottom he placed portraits of his parents inside his mother’s favorite book and a packet of seeds his father had given him years ago that he never had the heart to plant. On top of that he packed his sturdiest clothes, warmer clothes for inclement weather, and plenty of handkerchiefs. Then he found odds and ends that he thought might be useful on the journey – thread and needles, a tin of matches, as well as flint and steel that his father made him learn how to use, a pocket knife, a length of rope, and a packet of tea leaves and one of pipe-weed. He would wait until Dwalin returned to figure out what sort of dishware and food they would need as well.

Bilbo smiled as he placed the pack and his sturdy walking stick by the front door. Ready to go. Now to tackle the rest of his house. He figured most of the large furniture would have to stay in Bag End (and honestly it wouldn’t feel right to take it out anyway), but the smaller pieces could be shipped easily enough. He decided he’d start with all his books.

After bringing a couple of boxes out the storage room, he began filling them with his scores of books, pulling out a few gardening ones for Hamfast and fishing ones for Drogo and Otho. He sighed – Bag End would have to go to Otho after all, and wouldn’t that make Lobelia happy. She’d always had her eye on this place. He’d often secretly wondered if she was only marrying Otho since he was next in line for it. No changing that now.

After finishing the books – he packed up the rest of his clothes and the odds and ends in his bedroom. He dreaded the thought of his mother’s dishes bumping around in some cart across Middle-earth, so those just might have to stay, but the silverware would travel easily enough. As he finished putting the last silver teapot in a box, he heard a knock at the door.

“Coming!” he called as he brushed dust off his vest.

Standing outside was Hamfast and Bell Gamgee, who immediately pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank you for looking after our place,” said Bell at the same moment Hamfast said, “How do ya dare go and get married and leave without giving me any notice, Bilbo?”

Bilbo laughed. “I know, I know! It’s all come as a surprise to everyone, me included. But I’ve made up my mind to have an adventure, and Dwalin’s such a dear!”

“It’s so romantic,” sighed Bell.

“It is indeed,” said Hamfast. “Now, let’s help you get your things packed up so you can enjoy the rest of the day with your new husband.” Bilbo blushed as Hamfast walked inside, rolling up his sleeves. The next two hours passed quickly – Hamfast and Bell were most effective at packing things up. They put the boxes in a back room. Hamfast promised he’d keep a sharp eye on everything and suggested that Bilbo not turn over the keys to Otho until he had decided for sure he wanted to stay in that “foreign, dwarven place.”

When they were mostly finished, Hamfast and Bell left after promising they’d take good care of his place after he left. Bilbo set about cooking a lovely feast for dinner; after all, Dwalin’s appetite almost rivaled his own and there was no use in saving food that would go bad in his larders once they left. He had just put the serving bowl of sorrel soup on the table when he heard the front door open.

Dwalin called out, “Hello, Bilbo. Hope you don’t mind me letting myself in.”

“Of course not,” Bilbo returned. “Put your things down and come into the dining room. Supper’s ready.”

Dwalin came in, cheeks red from exertion and smile bright. “I’ve found enough ponies for everyone – they’ll be delivered tomorrow, and I’ve got some others bringing all the supplies we’ll need.”

“Wonderful,” said Bilbo. “I don’t know if any of my things will be useful for our trip.”

“I’ll take a look through after this delicious feast,” said Dwalin sitting down next to Bilbo.

As soon as he sat there was a knock at the door. Bilbo rose, saying, “I’ll get it; it’s probably some well-wishers.” Dwalin nodded and began dishing out the food. Bilbo opened the front door. Instead of a hobbit, a white-bearded dwarf stood outside.

Bilbo blinked at him.

The dwarf bowed low and said, “Balin son of Fundin, at your service.”

Son of Fundin. Bilbo bowed, “Bilbo Baggins at yours.”

From the other room, the sound of the chair being pushed back could be heard, and soon Dwalin burst into the entryway. “Brother,” he said, and the pair grabbed each other’s forearms and knocked their foreheads together. Bilbo stood back, eyes wide.

“I didn’t know you’d be arriving tonight,” Dwalin said, giving Bilbo a nervous glance.

“The weather was fair, so I decided to press on and help you get things ready. I dare say some of the others will have the same idea,” said Balin, finding his way toward the food.

“‘Others?’ How many are coming?” asked Bilbo, worried about the amount of food he had prepared.

Dwalin cleared his throat anxiously. “Can’t say for sure.”

Bilbo sighed as he followed Dwalin back into the dining room. Balin had sat himself in Bilbo’s chair and helped himself to Bilbo’s meal. What was it with dwarves and stealing Bilbo’s dinner? He got out another plate and cup from the sideboard. After he put them on the table, Dwalin put his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and said, “I’ve something important to tell you, brother.”

Balin popped a piece of a buttered roll into his mouth. “Go on then,” he said around the bite.

“Bilbo and I got married this afternoon.”

Balin blinked several times, before grabbing another roll. “Couldn’t you have waited for your own brother to come? Always the impatient one, aren’t you, brother?”

It wasn’t the response Bilbo had expected whatsoever, but perhaps dwarves were just different in their wedding congratulations. There was another knock at the door, and Bilbo hurried to answer it, leaving Dwalin sitting next to his brother.

He opened the door. A younger pair of dwarves – one dark and one light – bowed and said together, “Fíli and Kíli at your service.” Bilbo blinked at them. The darker one said gleefully, “You must be Mr. Boggins.” Bilbo stuttered, but they pushed their way inside and met Dwalin and Balin in the hall who had come out to greet them.

“Dwalin’s gone and married a hobbit,” said Balin dryly.”

“Dwalin!” said the darker one.

“Which hobbit?” asked the other.

“Not this one?”

“Yes, this one,” said Dwalin, putting an arm protectively around Bilbo. The young dwarves fell silent and stared at Bilbo.

“I guess you’ll want to eat as well,” said Bilbo. The pair just stared at him. “If you’ll just follow me—” But he was interrupted by another knock at the door. “Oh goodness,” said Bilbo, giving the door a firm yank, making the group of dwarves pile onto the floor. Bilbo stared at them in mild horror until Gandalf’s chuckle drew his attention. Bilbo gave Gandalf a glare, stepping back as dwarves stood up and cluster, greeting one another. Behind a hand, Bilbo hissed at Dwalin, “Is this everyone?”

Dwalin shrugged apologetically and whispered, “Almost.” Bilbo tried to put on a brave face.

The dark-haired dwarf shouted about the din, “Dwalin got married to Mr. Boggins!”

Every pair of eyes swiveled and latched onto Bilbo, who tried to smile back at them all. The entire group of dwarves was completely silent, so Bilbo said, “It’s nice to meet you all. I am Bilbo Baggins.”

He gave Dwalin a side glance, who stepped forward, putting his arm around Bilbo, and began introducing the dwarves. “These here are my cousins, Óin and Glóin. These are the brothers Dori, Nori, and the youngest of our company, Ori. This big fellow is Bombur, his brother is Bofur, and their cousin Bifur.”

Bilbo bowed, “I’m pleased to meet you all. It may take me a while to put the right name with the right dwarf.”

“Don’t worry about it, you’ll catch on soon enough since they rhyme nicely. Dwalin, Balin; Fíli, Kíli; Óin, Glóin, Dori, Nori, Ori; Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur,” Dwalin prattled off the list at a rapid pace. Bilbo blinked at him. “The only that’s not here is Thorin, he’s the young princes’ uncle and our leader, so he should be easy to remember, even if his name doesn’t rhyme.”

Bilbo nodded, though he was still confused. He could hardly believe there were so many dwarves in his house all at once, and that Dwalin hadn’t told him about them. He’d deal with that later. He spoke to the group of staring dwarves and said, “You all must be hungry. The dining room is to your right. I’ll have to fetch more though, I’m afraid.”

That set them off. Soon his house was busy with dwarves bustling to and fro, having decided that the table did not hold nearly enough food and were availing themselves of his pantry. Bilbo stood in the middle of his hallway, ducking and shifting out of their way. The young dwarf – Ori, was it? – just stood nearby staring at him with wide, curious eyes.

Soon the dwarves were mostly sitting at the table, after Fíli had walked across it. Bilbo walked into the dining room, Ori trailing silently behind him. The dwarves were laughing and shouting and throwing food. When Glóin knocked his mother’s gravy boat on the floor in his haste to grab a handful of ham slices, Bilbo saw red. Grabbing a wooden spoon, he smacked Glóin across the knuckles.

Glóin jumped up and shouted, “What’d you do that for!?”

Holding the spoon in front of him as a makeshift weapon, Bilbo said, “Haven’t you any decency?” Glóin just grunted and sat back down this time in another place since Bifur had taken is. “Look at the lot of you – falling on the food that way!”

Dwalin got up and tried to placate Bilbo. “They’re just excited, Bilbo. They don’t mean no harm.”

Bilbo shook Dwalin’s hands off his shoulders. “I won’t stand for this!” Furious he grabbed the edge of the table. “If you want to act like hogs, you can eat like hogs!” With a mighty heave, Bilbo lifted the table up and tipped it over. Half the dwarves ended up on the floor covered in food. For a moment they all stared at Bilbo in shock, but when he ran red-faced out of the room, they started laughing and flinging food at one another.

Bilbo raced to his bedroom and latched the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin's a great big softie, but he's also a slitherer-outer.


	5. The Quarreling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwarves are churlish, Dwalin is sheepish, Thorin is a big fat jerk, and Bilbo is sassy, but also forgiving.

Safe from ill-mannered dwarves in his bedroom, Bilbo sat on his bed and huffed until his temper cooled. The nerve of these dwarves! They thought they could just barge into his house, eat his food, and mess up his things. Maybe he should have expected it after meeting Dwalin for the first time. He wondered if all dwarves had horrific table manners like this group.

But it was a bit different when it was just one dwarf. Dwalin had been intrusive, but not insensitive. He wished that Dwalin had given him a bit of warning that there would be eleven, twelve? dwarves in his house for supper. Though Dwalin hadn’t known they’d be here tonight, had he?

Gandalf though – a large portion of blame lay on that meddling wizard. Recruiting Bilbo for an adventure and telling him absolutely nothing about it. However, if he had told Bilbo there’d be a whole passel of dwarves in his dining room, he would have barred the doors of Bag End and stayed with his cousins for a week.

Annoyed with himself managing to partially justify Dwalin, Gandalf, and the dwarves’ behavior, he stiffened when there was a soft, but firm knock at his door. Bilbo remained where he was.

A voice came through the door, “Bilbo, it’s me, Dwalin – your husband. I know you’re upset, but Thorin’s here, and he wants to meet you.”

Bilbo sighed and smiled as he got up. He unlatched the door and gave Dwalin a look. “I haven’t forgotten who you are, Dwalin.”

Dwalin shrugged sheepishly. “That’s good then.”

Leading the way, Bilbo headed back out to face the dwarves and meet their leader. To his astonishment, his house had been completely put back together. The dishes were all washed and drying, the dining room spotless, and it appeared that someone had swept all the floors. Bilbo caught the eyes of a few of the dwarves and smiled; they shuffled their feet shyly in return.

“So this is the hobbit,” said a deep voice. “He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.”

Was this how all disposed dwarven kings greeted their hosts? Bilbo turned and met the sharp eyes of an imposing dwarf, standing in his sitting room. He gave a bow and decided he could ignore a bit more dwarven rudeness. “You must be King Thorin. Bilbo Baggins at your service.”

Thorin regally inclined his head, but said nothing.

Bilbo motioned toward the kitchen and said, “I imagine you must be hungry as well from your journey. Let me get you something to eat.” As he walked past the assembled dwarves he gave them a sharp look, though they’d cleaned his house once, he’d rather them not mess it up again just the same.

Once Thorin had something to eat and all the dwarves, Bilbo, and Gandalf were seated around the table, Thorin began explaining his plans. Bilbo had brought a piece of parchment and a quill and was hurriedly scratching notes about a key and a missing door, when he thought he heard the word “dragon.”

Bilbo spoke up, “I’m terribly sorry, but did you say ‘dragon?’”

“Of course,” said Thorin impatiently. “What exactly did you think you’d be doing as our burglar?”

“‘Burglar!?’” Bilbo gave a sharp laugh. “I must be dreadfully confused, no one said anything about any dragon, and I am most certainly not a burglar.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Dwalin, who refused to meet his eyes. Finally, he huffed, “Is there anything else I haven’t been told? Do you need me to fight trolls and goblins as well or is it just my job to teach you lot some manners?”

Dwalin couldn’t stand the look of betrayal on Bilbo’s face and tried to apologize, “I am sorry, Bilbo. But you just seemed so excited, and I very much wanted you to come with me. I never meant to deceive you.”

Bilbo refused to look at him, head swimming with angry and fearsome thoughts. He couldn’t decide if he was angrier at Dwalin or more scared of this dragon that he was supposed to do something about. What precisely was he supposed to do against a dragon?

“It appears that we will have to find someone else to do the hobbit’s job,” said Thorin breaking the silence with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Well, that was not going to happen, thought Dwalin, fear squeezing his heart. “Hold on just a minute, Thorin. Bilbo is coming with us.”

Thorin glared at him. “It appears to me that _Mr. Baggins_ had no desire to accompany us on our journey. I can hardly imagine how you have become so fond of this nervous fellow.”

That mad Dwalin angry, but he clenched his jaw and gritted out, “I’m more than fond of this fellow. I’ve married him.”

Thorin’s eyes grew wide, and his jaw would have dropped, but that would have not been an appropriate response for a king. It took him a few moments, but he finally snarled, “You’ve done _what_?”

The company’s eyes were darting back and forth between the two dwarves. Dwalin said, a bit calmer, “Bilbo and I were married this very afternoon.”

“By Mahal, what possessed you to do such a thing?”

Dwalin shrugged. “Can’t really put it into words, sire. I can’t expect you to understand something like this. But Bilbo and I were happy together, and we will be again once we get everything sorted out.” He gave Bilbo an apologetic half smile. “Of course, I shouldn’t be speaking for him.” Dwalin took a deep breath. “Bilbo, do ya still want to go with us to Erebor and help us reclaim our home?”

Every head turned toward Bilbo, who slunk a bit lower in his seat at all the attention. His head was spinning, but one thought was clear. “I’ve married you, Dwalin. I’ll not abandon you before we even begin, but I am going to insist on some changes around here.” He flushed as all the dwarves leaned in expectantly and said sternly, “We will discuss those later.” Dwalin nodded, shamefaced.

Thorin cleared his throat, “As long as that’s settled. We have more plans to discuss.” The rest of the evening was spent discussing the safest versus quickest routes, where the secret door might be located, and who could be trusted to help them on their way (that was a short list). After his long day, Bilbo could hardly keep his eyes open and soon excused himself.

Dwalin watched him leave, but didn’t follow. Instead he stayed with the rest of the dwarves as the spread out in the parlor, pulling out pipes and resting by the fire. Thorin and Gandalf had wandered off somewhere with secrets to discuss. Everyone now and then one of the dwarves would give him a saucy look, but he did his best to ignore them all.

Finally, he could bear it no longer. Bilbo was either waiting for him or asleep, but he was double the hobbit’s size and there was absolutely no reason to be scared of him. He stretched nonchalantly, looking at the low fire. “It’s getting late. We got a big day of packing tomorrow.” He gave Fíli and Kíli a stern look. “It’s an hour past your bedtime.”

“Yours too,” said Kíli with a mischievous grin. He poked Fíli, who laughed and poked Ori, who looked confused and sleepy. Dori gave them all a dirty look, before joining the rest in staring keenly at Dwalin. 

Dwalin glared right back, but finally stood. “Well, I’m getting a might sleepy at that.” He strode confidently from the room and chimed, “Good night, boys,” as he left the room.

Once again he found himself knocking at Bilbo’s door. He heard a quiet, “Who is it?”

Dwalin answered, “It’s Dwalin – your husband.”

“Come in, Dwalin.”

Inside the bedroom, Dwalin found Bilbo sitting on a chair. “I thought you’d be in bed.”

“Did you?” responded Bilbo without any expression.

“It’s been a right busy day. You must be kind of tuckered out.”

“That’s right.”

Dwalin shifted uncomfortably not knowing how to make things right. He motioned hesitantly toward the bed, “Shall I turn down the covers?”

“You can if you like.” As Dwalin moved to the bed, Bilbo spoke up, “You don’t want a husband, Dwalin. You want a burglar and someone to cook and clean up after all you dwarves. All this afternoon you let me make a fool of myself – you should have warned me.”

“Maybe I should have. But you were so excited. Besides, if I told you all this beforehand you might not have gone with us, let alone married me. And I wanted you to marry me, Bilbo; I wanted it real bad.”

Bilbo glared at him. “Sure you did – you wanted me because I’m hardworking and a good cook, you said so yourself!”

“That’s partly true; it’s going to be difficult journey. There’ll be danger; I wanted someone who could stand by me.” Dwalin’s tone softened as he walked close to Bilbo. “That not all I see in you though. I see how generous, kind, patient, and good-natured you are. I count myself real fortunate to have you for my own.” Gently, he put his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, but when Bilbo moved away, his face fell.

Giving up, Dwalin moved toward Bilbo’s bedroom window and tried to open with it. He fiddled with the latch for a moment before Bilbo came over and opened it for him. “What are you doing, Dwalin?” he asked.

“Sleeping outside. Maybe the ponies will take me in.”

Bilbo bit his lip and tried not to smile. “I don’t think you can fit through that window, Dwalin.”

Dwalin stepped back and laughed. “I reckon I won’t. Do you want me to leave?”

Bilbo softened and said, “All things considered, I wouldn’t want you to lose face in front of the others. Maybe you’d better stay here.”

“Am I forgiven then?”

Bilbo smiled and wrapped his arms around Dwalin. “Yes, you’re forgiven.” He blushed as he continued, “Get your things off and get into bed. We still have things to discuss.”

Dwalin laughed as he pulled his shirt off, taking notice of the appreciative look Bilbo was giving his bare chest. “I’m too tired to discuss things tonight. Let’s wait until the morning. Plus,” he said with a devilish smirk, “There’re other things I’d rather do tonight while we still have a bed.”

Bilbo turned bright red, but laughed as he teased, “I thought just you said you were too tired.”

“Never too tired for you, love.” Dwalin wrapped his arms around Bilbo and drew him toward the bed. His feet promptly got tangled in his own shirt, and he fell on the bed, pulling Bilbo down next to him. With a crash the legs of the bed gave way and the frame and mattress fell on the floor with the pair on top of it. The both flinched with the huge crash.

Bilbo gasped, but Dwalin’s arms kept him from harm. “You broke my great-grandfather’s bed!”

Dwalin laughed pulling Bilbo into a sitting position. “Well, it was an antique and it’s not like we were going to take it with us. There’ll be plenty of beds in Erebor – ones made of stone, mind you, much sturdier.”

“But where are we going to sleep tonight?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the mattress. We’ll just have to make do.”

“Very well. I’m sure all my guest beds are being used anyway.”

Dwalin rearranged the pillows and pulled a quilt over the pair of them. “Comfortable?” he asked as he wrapped Bilbo in his arms.

Bilbo snuggled into his chest. “Very.” Boldly he placed a kiss on Dwalin’s lips.

Dwalin wove his fingers through Bilbo’s curls as he kissed his hobbit back. When they pulled apart, Bilbo whispered, “Do you think the others heard the bed break?”

Chuckling, Dwalin said, “I dare say they did. I can’t imagine what they thought we’re doing in here. Now, keep it down, or they’ll know exactly what we’re doing now.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, but pushed Dwalin down and gave him a demanding kiss. And when Dwalin groaned, Bilbo scolded him with a hush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> November 2014: Now with [smutty wedding night scene outtake](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2697581)!


	6. The Washing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo enlists several hobbit to help get the dwarves all cleaned up.

The next morning, Bilbo and Dwalin were up before dawn and the rest of the dwarves. The pair of them was in good spirits, and Bilbo was determined to make himself useful and set some standards with the dwarves. After they dressed, Bilbo kissed Dwalin and set him to fetch and heat enough water for the dwarves to wash up. Bilbo himself went to see how fared his panty after the dwarves had been at it.

It was nearly bare. Bilbo sighed. How was he supposed to feed them breakfast, never mind the rest of the meals before they left tomorrow morning? He supposed he would just have to ask his neighbors for help – no self-respecting hobbit would ever let another creature go hungry.

The Gamgees would be awake at this early hour, so he set off to find them first. Hamfast and Bell were delighted he’d come to them, and they both took charge right away. Bell piled Bilbo with baskets of food, and Hamfast went off to find some other neighbors to help.

While Bilbo and Bell walked back to Bag End, they caught up with Dwalin who was carrying two large pails of water from the well in his strong hands. “You know, Bilbo,” Dwalin said after greeting Bell, “dwarves don’t usually eat as much as we did last night. That was a right feast to go with a special occasion. Your neighbors needn’t go without.”

“Nonsense,” said Bell, shifting her basket of bread higher on her hip, “hobbits always make sure we have more than enough to go around. Nothing better than a big meal to get you going in the day, at least until the next one comes along.”

Bell and Bilbo got to work in the kitchen, putting Dwalin in charge of heating all the water and putting it in several tubs and basins. He was somewhat concerned, but Bilbo assured him that he couldn’t burn water and ignored Dwalin when he said that it was the water’s use that worried him.

Hamfast came back soon, with two Took siblings from their nearby farm. Soon food was cooking, and delicious wafts filled Bag End. Soon Esmeralda Took whispered something in her brother, Paladin’s ear, and Paladin asked, “Do the dwarves need any washing done? Nothing better than having clean clothes before setting out on a journey, and they’re probably dirty from traveling here.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Bilbo. “Dwalin, see if any are awake and get their things. We can use one of the tubs to give everything a quick scrub.”

Dwalin nodded and came back with armfuls of clothes. “They’re all still asleep after so much drinking last night; not one woke.”

Bell said, “I certainly hope you dwarves don’t drink like that every night – it’s nearly seven in the morning and not one of them are up.” Dwalin shook his head. “Well, bring them outside. I’ll teach you how to scrub clothes. Won’t take a minute.”

So Dwalin found himself outside, up to his elbows in hot suds washing other dwarves’ dirty clothes. He felt like he should be insulted by the whole thing, but Bell kept checking on him, and she was one hobbit he didn’t dare let down.

Bilbo was just pulling a pan of muffins out of the oven when Esmeralda came up to him and said, “I believe the other dwarves are awake.” Indeed they were, since the angry shouts could only be coming from them.

“Thank you, Esmeralda,” Bilbo said, pulling off his apron. “It’s about time. What can they be fussing about already?”

“Maybe it’s because Master Dwalin took their clothes,” Esmeralda said, wide-eyed and nervous.

Bilbo chuckled. “I didn’t think Dwalin would take all their clothes! I’ll go sort them out. Perhaps you and Bell should go wait outside until we get the clothing situation all settled.” Bilbo, along with Hamfast and Paladin, went to the first guest bedroom where dwarven shouting could be heard the loudest.

“Good morning, my friends,” called Bilbo through the door. “If you’re looking for your outside clothes, they’re outside, hanging on the line. Dwalin came in before and got them. He couldn’t get your inside clothes, so I’ll take them now.”

“Our underwear?” came a confused voice. Bilbo thought it was either Fíli or Kíli.

“Yes, the ones you’re sleeping in.” There was a long pause. Bilbo nodded at Hamfast and Paladin, who crossed their arms staunchly, ready for trouble. “You might was well give them up, because you’re not going to get your clothes or food or nothing until you get all cleaned up. I’d rather not travel with a bunch of smelly dwarves until I absolutely have to.”

“Where’s Dwalin?” came a voice from the next room down the hall, where the dwarves had obviously been listening. “I want to talk to Dwalin.”

“He’s outside, finishing with the wash. We’ve been up for a good hour now.” No response came from inside. Bilbo decided that the dwarves needed tempting. “I’ve got hot muffins waiting, crisp bacon, hotcakes, steak, fire potatoes, fresh ground coffee…” While a few sighs came from inside the rooms, none of the doors opened.

Bilbo put his hands on his hips, “Now do I get your clothes or do I have to come in and take it off you?” Shuffling and grumbling was heard from inside. He thought he heard Nori saying how he wouldn’t dare. “Oh, wouldn’t I?” laughed Bilbo as he pushed open the door. Immediately, he was pushed back as several dwarves fell against the door.

“All right, all right, you’ll get them!” came a worried shout.

Bilbo smiled as piles of underwear were squeezed through the smallest possible openings in the door. “Wrap yourselves up in blankets and you can take turns washing yourselves up before breakfast.” He left Hamfast in charge of seeing that they all got clean while he took the pile of dirty clothes out to Dwalin. “One more pile. Just leave these in to soak and come in for breakfast. You dwarves are extremely modest. ”

Dwalin nodded and happily followed Bilbo inside and soon a strange bunch was sitting gathered around the table. All the dwarves save Dwalin were sitting wrapped up in blankets, with their hair and beards clean and braided. Thorin was the only one who was trying to maintain some dignity, letting his blanket flow behind him like a make-shift cape; the others simply looked embarrassed. Dwalin and Gandalf, who not even the fiercest hobbit would try to take clothes from, were highly amused. Hamfast and Bell kept laughing at the dwarves as they tried to keep their blankets on as they followed Bilbo’s example of hobbitish manners and passed food to one another. Finally, Esmeralda kept her eyes shyly on her plate, and Paladin glared at any of the dwarves who looked at her. It was an odd meal, but Bilbo kept the conversation flowing by asking polite questions about each of them.

After breakfast, there was mass confusion with all the dwarves trying to find their own clothes and get dressed, while refusing to actually step outside to get them. Once all were clean and put together, everyone seemed in much higher spirits. For the rest of the day, they worked on getting their last tasks completed.

Ori and Dori helped Bilbo pack up the last of his remaining things. When Lobelia came by, she decided to be helpful as well and said nothing about the state of Bilbo’s great-grandfather’s bed. She assisted Ori and Dori in sorting through Bilbo’s linens, deciding which ones were worth shipping and which could stay in Bag End. Bombur and Bilbo made sure that they packed enough long-lasting foods in everyone’s packs, while Bifur and Bofur helped Hamfast in the garden.

As Bilbo lay in Dwalin’s arms for his last night in Bag End, he was tired, but not overly so. It had been difficult saying goodbye to his friends and home, but he was glad that he had been able to spend the whole day with them.

The next morning the entire company was up at dawn (having gone to bed early the night before without any carousing per Bell’s demands). Bilbo felt awkward on his pony, Myrtle, but Dwalin stayed by his side ready to catch him should he start to slide. He paid close attention to every detail in the Shire, knowing that this may be his last sight of it, and he wanted all the memories he could hold.

They passed Hamfast and Bell, up bright and early, who waved them tearfully goodbye. Hamfast passed Bifur a packet of flower seeds, and Bifur gave him a little bird he’d whittled in return.

Bilbo ducked his face as he wiped tears from his own eyes.

But the day was bright with a cool breeze curling Myrtle’s mane and the hair on his toes, and he felt a lot better with Dwalin by his side.


	7. The Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving in Rivendell, the Company is treated well by some and not so well by others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be skipping parts along the journey to Erebor to get to the scenes that can be made to fit the plot of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. Gotta get to the good parts.

Rivendell.

Bilbo stared in amazement at the elegant architecture situated so pleasingly in the valley below. The last few weeks of their journey had been difficult on Bilbo even with Dwalin’s support to keep him going. Between the horrid incident with the trolls and this morning’s flee from the wargs and orc riders, Bilbo was ready for a nice, long rest in the elven home.

Not that Bilbo’s opinion of the dwarves hadn’t improved. They were all growing on him, especially the young ones who were so eager to please. Of course after the incident with the trolls, Dwalin refused to leave Bilbo alone with Fíli and Kíli.

It was a challenge though, finding a happy medium between dwarven and hobbitsh cultures. Biblo did try not to be too bossy, but there were just something that he wouldn’t stand for – mealtimes seemed to be when most conflicts arose, after all no one should mess with a hungry hobbit. The worst had been the dwarves habit of the loudest and toughest getting the most food. Bilbo had been afraid that poor Ori would waste away, until Thorin himself actually put a stop to that, saying that everyone got the same travel rations.

The young ones tried to emulate Bilbo’s just-because-we’re-not-at-a-table-does-not-mean-you-should-not-have-table-manners. Bilbo wasn’t sure if they did it because they thought it was a game or because they were still a little scared of him. Fíli and Ori (and Dori and Balin as well, but they already acted more refined than the other dwarves) got the hang of chewing (and not talking!) with their mouths closed and then wiping their mouths. However, Bilbo was always wiping crumbs out of Kíli’s beard, which always made him grin, so Bilbo didn’t mind too much.

Overall, Bilbo had grown very fond of his dwarves. Though as Dwalin, put a protective arm around Bilbo even as they entered the safe haven of Rivendell, Bilbo remembered their dislike of the elves and sighed. His time here might not be so restful after all.

Dwalin kept a close eye and hand on Bilbo as they walked down into the valley. He didn’t see any elves yet, which was more worrying. He ignored the exasperated look Bilbo gave him as he pulled his hobbit under his arm as they crossed a rickety bridge (nothing like sturdy dwarf-hewn stone beneath his feet). He wasn’t about to let Bilbo get hurt if the elves decided to ambush them.

The dwarves moved around awkwardly in a place that Dwalin guessed might be the entrance to this elven place – why they couldn’t use doors like everyone else was beyond him. Finally, after being rudely made to wait several minutes, a serious-looking elf walked down a flight of stairs and greeted “Mithrandir” with a fussy hand motion. Gandalf greeted him back, calling him Lindir.

Before anyone could say anything else a herd of horses with elven warrior riding them came across the bridge and started circling the dwarves. The dwarves drew their weapons and pulled one another back into a ring. Dwalin made certain that Bilbo was safely in the middle. Bilbo grabbed Dwalin’s arm and made sure that he didn’t start stabbing at the elves. The elves circled the dwarves in intricate circles, giving them cold stares as the dwarves snarled back up at them.

Finally, an elf with a proud bearing slipped off his horse, and embraced Gandalf in greeting. Dwalin noticed his warm tone and lowered his ax slightly. The elf began complaining about orc attacks, and Gandalf explained that it was probably their fault. Dwalin could feel Thorin bristling beside him, and knew how he hated that the elves had played a part in their escape.

Thorin strode forward, and the elf looked down on him and said, “Welcome, Thorin son of Thráin.”

“I do not believe we have met,” said Thorin in his most haughty manner.

Bilbo looked on anxiously as Thorin continued to speak rudely to the elf. He had no manners whatsoever! And when the elf spoke in Sindarian, Bilbo tried to figure out what he was saying, but Glóin immediately took offence, all the dwarves started grumbling and bristling, and Bilbo was elbowed several times. 

Gandalf quickly put an end to that when he explain they were being offered food. The dwarves quickly discussed this new turn of events and decided that much could be ignored (if not forgiven) if given food. Bilbo sighed at their antics, but took Dwalin’s offered hand and followed the elves.

However, the dwarves soon found out that what the elves thought was food was, to them, weeds. Bilbo was munching on a salad as he watched the dwarves try to find something to eat among all the vegetables. He noticed that the dwarves were trying very hard to have good manners and not look uncouth in front of the elves, and he was very proud of them.

Ori was sorrowfully complaining as Dori tried to get him to eat a leaf of lettuce. The rest of the dwarves were not faring much better. Biblo had to give Dwalin a swift kick under the table after he rooted through a bowl of lettuce and, was it, onions? They weren’t even cooked! A salad was all well and good, but even hobbits needed something with a bit more substance to keep them going. He imagined that the dwarves were feeling much worse.

Bilbo had only seen a few elves in his lifetime and had never dined with them, but he couldn’t imagine that this was all they ate. He tried to see what was on Gandalf, Thorin, and Elrond’s plates, but he couldn’t make it out. Perhaps he should say something, but he didn’t want to insult his hosts! So he kept encouraging the dwarves to try to vegetables with a bit of flavorful oil that was on the table.

However, Bilbo was certain something was amiss when he saw two almost-identical elves smiling mischievously at one another before bringing in two more platters – one with an entire head of cabbage and the other with a pile of uncooked grains. “Don’t eat that,” he said to Ori, who had grabbed a few stalks seeing as how they weren’t green.

Bilbo took the plate and turned to Lindir who had been supervising nearby and said as politely as he could, “I’m terribly sorry. But we cannot eat this – in fact, it might make us sick.”

A look of horror passed swiftly across Lindir’s face before he bowed and took the dish. “I am terribly sorry. I believe my cook is not used to dwarven diets.”

Bilbo gave him a sharp eye. “Do elves eat uncooked wheat? Or entire heads of cabbage?”

“No,” said the elf anxiously. “There appears to be some confusion in the kitchens. I will rectify this right away. What can I bring you?”

Bilbo smiled. “Thank you, Lindir. I’m sure _you_ meant no offence.” Those two laughing elves were long gone, so he couldn’t let them know he was on to their tricks. “Some bread and cheese would be a good start.”

“Maybe you elves don’t eat it, but we dwarves eat meat,” said Dwalin.

The other dwarves began chiming in.

“Yes, please, we want meat – any kind will do, though I am partial to ham.”

“Chips!”

“Do you have any pie?”

“I’ve been hankering for a warm, filling stew.”

“Eggs, and do cook them.”

Within a few minutes most of the greenery had been removed from the table, and it was a much happier group that sat around eating and laughing.

Later that day, Bilbo asked Lindir if there was a place where they could bathe and wash their clothes. Lindir kindly took them to a bathhouse, and offered to have their clothes washed for them. Bilbo politely declined, knowing that the dwarves probably did not want elves touching their personal possessions and not trusting the other elves to not somehow ruin them. Though Lindir was a nice fellow to offer, he thought.

So Bilbo chased down and convinced as many dwarves as he could to wash themselves and their clothes. It was an enjoyable time, soaking in the warm water and talking with his friends. Dori and Óin seemed fascinated with the various soaps and shampoos the elves offered. Bofur gave his hat a good scrub, which made it smell like a wet, perfumed dog. Dwalin had to kick Fíli and Kíli out, because they wouldn’t stop splashing.

It felt wonderful to be all clean again, but it was almost just as nice sneaking glances at Dwalin’s broad, bare chest. Though if the way Bofur kept laughing at him meant anything, perhaps he wasn’t being as subtle as he’d hoped.

After bathing, Gandalf needed Bilbo, Balin, and Thorin to talk with Elrond about their quest. Bilbo found the map very interesting and Elrond very wise, but the two dwarves apparently did not share his opinion. As soon as their meeting was finished, Lindir took Bilbo to his and Dwalin’s room. The couple slept soundly, safe in one another’s arms and safer still under Elrond’s roof.

In the morning, Dwalin went off to see if he could find a way to repair a belt buckle and a stew pot handle. Bilbo, with Lindir’s permission, decided to do some exploring while Dwalin was occupied.

Ori stopped him on his way out, “Where’re you going, Bilbo?”

“I’m going exploring. I thought I’d stretch my legs and admire their architecture and maybe even find their library,” Bilbo explained.

Ori’s eyes brightened at the word “library.” “I’d better go along,” he said, “and make sure you don’t get lost.”

“What’s going on?” asked Nori.

“Bilbo and I are going exploring,” said Ori proudly.

“I reckon I’ll go along. Help keep the two of you safe while Dwalin’s busy.”

“I can take care of myself,” said Ori fiercely.

Nori laughed. As they left, Fíli, Kíli, and Bofur invited themselves along with.

At first Bilbo would have preferred being alone, but between Fíli and Kíli’s jokes and Ori’s endless questions, he found that he was enjoying himself. They spent a good hour wandering the breezy halls, admiring and criticizing in turn. Whenever they passed an elf, Ori would whisper a question in Fíli’s ear, who would relay it to the elf. Most of the elves were willing to answer his questions and several seemed downright friendly.

When they got to the library, only Bilbo and Ori wanted to go in, so the others said they’d wait outside and have a smoke. As he left, Bilbo admonished them, “Don’t forget: mind your manners.” The dwarves all nodded.

Bilbo and Ori spent several blissful minutes reverently looking through the books before there was a loud shout and crash from outside. It sounded like there were people fighting. Ori ran to the door and shouted, “Hey, it’s us!”

Bilbo hurried over and was horrified to see Nori and Kíli brawling with the same two elves that had been causing the trouble with the food yesterday. Kíli was sitting on the first, punching him in the face, while the elf tried to twist out from under him. Nori was lying on the ground and kicked out the feet of the second elf when he advanced. There was a small crowd of elves gathered nearby with looks of varying horror or amusement. The other dwarves were just standing around laughing.

Bilbo was furious. “Stop it this minute!” he begged, trying to grab Nori as he went after the fallen elf. Unsuccessful, he tried to get Bofur and Fíli to step in. “Don’t just stand there; do something!”

“What for?” said Bofur. “There’s only two little ones.”

“Stop it!” said Bilbo grabbing Kíli’s shirt. “Stop it! Do you hear me?”

Kíli gave a quick glance at Bilbo. “All right, Bilbo.” When he was distracted, the elf punched him hard in the face and he stumbled against Bilbo. However, Kíli was right back in it, wrapping his arms low around the elf’s waist and tackling him to the ground. Bilbo was simply horrified, but there was nothing else he could do.

The elves might have been taller and more experienced, but it was clear that they were not used to fighting dwarves and had overestimated them. Between their smaller size, surprising strength, Kíli’s swiftness, and Nori’s tricks, the two elves were soon on the ground. They were just about to get up for another go, when Lindir’s voice rang out, “Stop this immediately!”

Everyone froze, except Bilbo who grabbed both Kíli and Nori and shoved them in the direction of the other dwarves. “Shame on you both!” he shouted. “What happened?”

The dwarves all looked shamefaced. Bofur spoke up, “They didn’t mean to fight, Bilbo. All Kíli did was offer those lady elves some of his pipe-weed. They got insulted, and those two brats decided to go after him, so Nori stepped in. It’s really good pipe-weed.”

Lindir stepped forward and grabbed the two elves, hauling them up. “Elladan and Elrohir, your father will hear of this. Go to your rooms right now.” The two elves gave the dwarves and Bilbo a nasty glare, but obeyed. Lindir bowed to the dwarves, “I apologize for the twin princes’ behavior. I assure you, they will be punished. I will bring you healing herbs for your wounds.” With that he strode off.

Still angry, Bilbo turned to the dwarves and shooed them in the direction their own rooms. He was so disappointed in them. In their own way, they had tried to be nice, but when it backfired, they retaliated so quickly. He didn’t know what to do with them.


	8. The Escaping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company escapes goblins, wargs, orcs, fire, and elves.

Though Thorin and the rest of the dwarves were furious with the way Bilbo and the others had been treated, between Bilbo’s explanation and Lindir’s sincere apologies, they decided not to retaliate. Bilbo was annoyed with Thorin acting like he was proud of his nephew’s hot-tempered behavior until he saw Thorin scolding Kíli in private. Dwarves and their pride. Of course, that was nothing comparing to the scolding Dori gave Nori. Poor Ori was almost in tears of sympathy for both his brothers.

Evidently, Elrond did hear of his sons’ behavior, for Elladan and Elrohir came to the dwarves and apologized to the dwarves. The princes acted humbled and sincere, but Bilbo thought he caught flickers of mischievousness in their grey eyes. Dwalin promised Thorin that he would keep Fíli and Kíli busy with training the rest of the time they were in Rivendell. Bilbo decided to join and practice with sword. Fíli was an excellent swordsman and helped Bilbo as much as he could by way of apology.

However, Dwalin decided that improving Bilbo’s woeful technique required his hands-on attention. So while the couple was distracted, Fíli and Kíli were free to run off and cause as much mischief as they liked, though they did avoid the elf twins like they promised. 

The Company’s stay in Rivendell ended much sooner than Bilbo would have liked. He hated sneaking out without saying goodbye, but Gandalf insisted that it was necessary and promised to catch up with them soon. It was with a heavy heart that Bilbo climbed the mountain pass and took one last look at Elrond’s home. Most of the dwarves were happy to be leaving, but Dori and Óin said they would miss elven beds if nothing else. Ori was almost in tears, until Nori reminded him there was more adventure ahead. Bifur looked sad as he munched on a bunch of lettuce leaves that he had grown to like, and Bofur declared that he hoped to see a few of those elf fellows again someday, drawing a shocked gasp from Bombur.

Hobbits were not made to climb mountains, thought Bilbo many times over the next few days. He made sure to keep his complaints to himself for he could barely stop Dwalin from trying to take some of his load. Every time Dwalin offered, Bilbo could feel Thorin glaring at him. So Bilbo did his best to do his part and not be a burden.

Of course, almost falling off the cliff and having to be rescued by Thorin did Bilbo no favors. Bilbo shrunk away when Thorin yelled at him, feeling thoroughly ashamed. Even Dwalin was too tired to do more than pat Bilbo’s shoulder comfortingly.

When they finally found shelter in a dank cave, Bilbo was tempted to gather his things and walk right back to the warmth and comfort of Rivendell. Instead, he snuggled closer to Dwalin under his fur and tried to sleep. He dreamed of horrid, little eyes peering through a door, but didn't fully awake until the floor shifted and they were all dragged through the Goblin King’s door.

The next several hours were among the worst of Bilbo’s life. First, he escaped being captured by the goblins only to watch Dwalin being dragged away, unaware that Bilbo wasn’t nearby. Then an especially nasty goblin spotted Bilbo and came after him. Despite Dwalin’s training, Bilbo barely managed to get his sword out in time to defend himself. Not that it mattered anyway, since Bilbo and goblin were soon tumbling down into the depths of the caverns.

When the finally reached the bottom, the goblin was killed by a nasty creature, who also tried to eat Bilbo. Fortunately, the monster seemed bored (or at least full), and Bilbo kept his wits long enough to challenge him to a game of riddles, win, and escape. He also discovered the creature’s gold ring and kept it, since it was clearly magic as it usefully turned its wearer invisible. Using the magic ring and every bit of his resourcefulness, Bilbo managed to escape the cave system.

Once outside, he soon found the dwarves and Gandalf, who had finally caught up with them. Forgetting his invisibility, he was shocked to hear Thorin and several others complaining about him being missing. But the sight of Dwalin sitting despondently with his hands covering his face stopped Bilbo from saying something angry in response. He slipped off his new ring, and threw his arms around Dwalin as everyone else looked on in surprise.

Incredibly relieved, Dwalin kissed his hobbit and refused to let him go for several minutes. The thought of losing Bilbo had been too much for him to bear, and he vowed to never let him go. However, Bilbo insisted on being let go since “he couldn’t breathe.” So Dwalin put Bilbo down, and Bilbo turned to greet the others and give some explanation for his whereabouts (though he decided to omit the mention of his new ring – no point in making the others jealous).

Just as Bilbo turned, the angry howls of wargs filled the air. Immediately, the group was off again, racing through the trees until they came to the edge of a cliff. Gandalf hurriedly told the dwarves to climb, and Dwalin tossed Bilbo onto the lowest branches of the nearest tree. Frightened, Bilbo climbed quickly, Dwalin right behind him, though he had to stay several branches lower since the ones nearest the top weren’t sturdy enough for his weight.

Afterwards, when he thought back upon it, the rest of the night seemed like a blur to Bilbo. Gandalf lit pinecones to hurl at the wargs and goblins, but the trees soon caught fire and the Company was soon forced to scramble from falling tree to falling tree until they were trapped on the last one that was hanging precariously over the edge of the cliff.

Bilbo was trying to hold on to the tree as Dwalin grabbed Balin, when he saw Thorin, roaring with his sword raised, toward a huge white monster. Bilbo watched in horror as Thorin valiantly tried to fight the much larger orc. Thorin was knocked aside, and Dwalin shouted unable to help as the orc advanced on his king. Without warning, Bilbo was racing across the fallen tree trunk, his light feet keeping him steady.

Furious and terrified, Bilbo tried to protect Thorin. At the time he had no thought other than an overwhelming decision that Thorin must not die. So Bilbo did his very best, and in fact stalled their enemy long enough for Gandalf’s friends the eagles to rescue them.

After the eagles fought off the beasts, they carefully carried the Company to a massive, protruding rock where they gently laid them down. Dwalin immediately wrapped Bilbo in his arms, but Bilbo squirmed away when he heard the wounded Thorin call for “the halfling.” Gandalf was working some healing magic over the fallen dwarf king.

Bilbo’s heart clenched tight in his chest as he approached. As Kíli and Fíli helped their uncle to his feet, Bilbo heaved a huge sigh of relief, but at Thorin’s angry tone, he froze. “You,” said the king gruffly, “what were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed.” Bilbo started backing up as Thorin strode toward him. “Did I not say you would be a burden – that you would not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us?” His voice softened as he reached for Bilbo. “I’ve never been so wrong in my life.” He enveloped a most surprised Bilbo in a hug, and Bilbo gasped in shock before he managed to hug Thorin back.

Soon the dwarves were cheering – both in happiness at Thorin’s admission and in relief at their narrow escape. Thorin clung to Bilbo a little longer, before pulling away and saying, “I am sorry I doubted you.”

Bilbo shook his head, “No, I would have doubted me too. I’m not a hero or a warrior… or even a burglar.” He laughed, feeling the huge weight of worry roll off his back.

Overhead, the eagles flew off, and the dwarves waved to them in farewell. Thorin stiffed at a sight over Bilbo’s shoulder. The hobbit turned to look – way off in the distance there was a peak, jutting out sharply from the ground around it. “Is that what I think it is?” asked Bilbo as the group walked to the edge of the cliff.

“Erebor,” said Gandalf solemnly. They had gone so far and were finally within sight of their goal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> February 2015: For your curiosity, a flirtatious scene in Rivendell - [A Shirt and Some Salve](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3406802). (Skip, if you'd rather be surprised by the pairings.)


	9. The Teaching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Beorn's house, Bilbo tries to teach the dwarves how to be romantic.

Though their bodies might have been aching, the Company’s hearts were much lighter as they climbed carefully down Carrock. When Gandalf told them he was leading them to the home of a sort of acquaintance of his (who wasn’t an elf), the thought of sleeping in beds and fresh food cheered the dwarves so much that they ignored his warnings of being on their best behavior. But Bilbo heard and was determined to make the dwarves mind their manners.

They took their time along the way, choosing to spend an afternoon bathing in a river and picking berries from the thorny bushes nearby. Bilbo secretly wondered if the slowed pace was Thorin’s way of showing gratitude by letting the hobbit rest. Whatever the reason was, Bilbo’s tired feet appreciated the cool water and reduced speed.

Eventually, Gandalf insisted that they must be on their way for, to their dismay, he had business that needed his prompt attention and would have to leave them soon. So they forded the river, Dwalin carrying Bilbo for the water was high enough that if the hobbit slipped he could have been carried away. “Now I must warn you,” said Gandalf, “about this man. He is a very great person – fearsome when angry, but kind enough if in a good mood. You would be wise to remember what Bilbo has been trying to teach you, though several of you have been ignoring his lessons! My friend is not one that one would want to be on the wrong side of.”

The dwarves were anxious at this warning, but Gandalf assured them would be fine if they could only remember their manners. Gandalf further explained that his name was Beorn, and he was a skin-changer. (“Not a furrier, Bilbo. Good gracious heavens, NO!”) He could apparently turn into a great black bear, fearsome to behold.

As they walked through a field of flowers and very large bees, Gandalf explained that their group would need to separate and come in pairs as to not overwhelm and annoy Beorn. “Bilbo will come first with me. Thorin and Dwalin may come next, but you must wait at least five minutes.” At Dwalin’s stormy look, Gandalf promised, “I will keep him safe. What harm do you imagine he can come to at my side?” Dwalin was not convinced, but he relented, if unwillingly.

Gandalf and Bilbo walked through a large gate toward a large wooden house. Beautiful, intelligent-looking horses were milling about and appeared interested in the pair, before running away. Finally, they came to Beorn, a giant of a man, covered in thick, black hair. The horses were standing behind the man, but he shooed them off, saying that his visitors did not look dangerous. “Who are you and want do you want?” the giant said rudely as he stood and walked toward them.

Bilbo swallowed as he looked up at the giant man – Bilbo could have easily walked between his legs without ducking. Gandalf introduced himself and Bilbo, but the man did not look impressed. However, he listened intently when Gandalf explained their run-in with goblins. So Gandalf drew near and started telling their story. Beorn invited them inside and bade Gandalf to tell their tale. Bilbo was amazed at how large everything was and felt quite small. As he spoke the dwarves came in two by two, but instead of being annoyed with Gandalf’s mild deception, Beorn was focused on their excitng story.

By the time Gandalf was finished, all the dwarves had come in, each of them bowing and giving their politest “at your services.” Beorn laughed at them all and invited them in for supper and said that they could stay. After dinner, which was very unusual what with animals bringing them their food, Beorn went out, warning them not to leave his house no matter what.

The Company relaxed around Beorn’s large table, sharing whatever pipe-weed they had left. Despite the late hour, no one was tired yet, feeling more keyed up after Beorn’s worrisome words. Ori sat next to Bilbo and Dwalin and said, “We did well today, didn’t we, Bilbo?”

Bilbo smiled and passed the young dwarf his pipe. “You all did very well. I’m very proud of you all.”

Dwalin laughed. “About time you lot learned something.” Bilbo elbowed him in the ribs, but not too sharply.

“I like Beorn better than any old elves,” said Kíli, grabbing Fíli’s pipe.

“What did we do wrong, Bilbo?” asked Fíli.

“What do you mean?”

“With the elves. We were trying so hard, we really were, but everything escalated so quickly.”

Oh – the incident in Rivendell. Bilbo sat up and asked, “Why don’t you tell me precisely what happened? Then I can help you figure out where you went wrong.”

Kíli began, “Well, the four of us were sitting outside the library while you and Ori were looking at their dusty, old books.” Bilbo rolled his eyes.

Fíli spoke up, “Then these elf ladies came walking towards us. I don’t think they noticed us at first, but then Kíli got the bright idea to go talk to them. But he was too shy, so Nori gave him a push, and he bumped into them.”

“I did no such thing,” said Nori with an innocent expression on his face.

“Liar,” laughed Kíli. “Anyway, they weren’t very pretty, but decided to be nice, so I said, “Care for some pipe-weed?’ to the elf ladies. Which I thought was very polite of me since it was the last of my dwarven weed. But they got all mad and fussy and acted like I was offering a dead rat.”

“It’s true,” said Fíli with a sad shake of his head. “My poor brother was just trying and failing to be charming once again – it was very pathetic.” Kíli kicked him in the shin, but he just laughed.

“The lasses were very upset,” chimed in Bofur. “All ‘Why I never!’ and ‘The nerve!’ and fluttering their delicate hands. I was just about to go over and calm down myself, when those two troublemakers came over.”

“I tried not to fight them,” said Kíli plaintively. “But one of them came right over and shoved me, so then I _had_ to fight him. When the other one came after me too, Nori knocked him down, since he was closest. And then we broke a vase and everyone was yelling and you came out and started yelling some more.” He hung his head, giving a melodramatic sniff.

“Those two brats had no idea who they were attacking,” said Nori, grinning wickedly. “They may have been great elven warriors, but they underestimated the fighting skills of dwarves. Of course, it didn’t help them one bit that I’ve been fighting bigger or stronger opponents almost my whole life.”

“That’s the truth,” scoffed Dori, but he did look a bit proud that his brother won a round against an elf.

“I did try to stop when you told me to,” said Kíli, giving a pitiful look at Bilbo. “But they came at me again.”

“It’s true. Only Lindir was able to stop them,” said Bofur. “He wasn’t a bad fellow – for an elf and all. He did keep those two princes in line after that.” Several of the dwarves gave him skeptical looks.

“Now, tell us, Bilbo; what did we do wrong?” repeated Fíli.

“Well, let’s forget about the fighting for now. After all, you didn’t start that,” said Bilbo. “Let’s focus on talking to elven women – or anyone that you’re attracted to, really, anyone that you’re meeting for the first time. After all, some things are true with anyone.”

As Bilbo stood, the dwarves gathered round, listening closely. “First of all, if you want to get a sweetheart you got to learn how to talk to one.”

Glóin spoke up, “I know all about that. It took me two years to figure out how to talk to my wife before I tried it. Talking to women can be incredibly difficult.”

Bilbo blinked in astonishment. “Courting procedures may be different with dwarves, but if I teach you now and we practice, you won’t have to wait two whole years.”

“I certainly didn’t,” said Dwalin with a slightly lecherous grin.

“We were married within twenty-four hours of meeting one another, Dwalin. I hardly think we’re the best example either. So my gentledwarves, somewhere between twelve hours and two years should be your goal. Anyway, if you know how to talk and what to talk about, you won’t have to feel nervous. Do you ever talk to females that are just friends?”

Balin explained, “There are so few dwarven women. The only female that many dwarves will ever know will be their mother or, rarely, a sister. Courting is very difficult with dwarves.”

“Well, it’s easier with hobbits, and there’re plenty of us – in the Shire at least. Let practice now. I’ll show you – I’m a girl, and you meet me walking down the road.” Bilbo started walking between the dwarves. Dwalin thought he was very amusing. “You raise your hat – ” He raised an imaginary hat off his head. The dwarves followed him, all except Bofur. “What’s the matter, Bofur?”

“My hair ain’t combed.”

Bilbo laughed. “Well, next you have to say something nice. Ori, say something nice.”

Ori furrowed his brow. “It’s a nice night for an orc hunt.”

Dwalin laughed, and Ori looked ashamed. “Dwalin, if you don’t behave, I’ll kick you out,” warned Bilbo.

“You’re beating your head against a stone wall, Bilbo. You’ll never make gentlehobbits out of them,” teased Dwalin.

Bilbo put his hands on his hips and stared at Dwalin until he sat back down. Cheerfully, he turned back to the dwarves. “You pay him no mind because you’re all going to be just fine.” He took Dori by the arm, showing the flushed dwarf how to properly do it. “Besides it could be weeks before we come across anyone else, so we have plenty of time to practice.”

Bilbo turned back to the others. “Now I imagine if you’re interested in a female dwarf, there’ll be a lot of competition.”

Glóin nodded, “That’s the way it was with me – there were always five or ten fellows hanging around her before I took care of them.”

“We’ll clean them off first thing,” said Fíli.

“Yeah – the whole lot of them!” agreed Kíli with a dangerous smile.

Bilbo turned to them, “Oh no, that’s one thing you mustn’t do. If they want to act like a pack of wargs, let them. You’ve got to be above such things – act courteous and well-spoken. Show the girls you have some etiquette.”

“Eti-what?” asked Bofur.

“Good manners,” explained Ori.

“Like I showed you at the table,” Bilbo said. “When you meet someone, don’t grab them like they were a flapjack. Hold off for a while, offer your arm, and when you’re alone, steal your arm around them. You’ve got to court someone to get them.”

“We do know about courting,” said Dori.

“Oh, I’m not talking about all the rules and traditions,” Bilbo clarified. “I’m talking about romance. You’ve got to call them ‘my darling, my dear, my precious, my pet.’” Bilbo smiled sweetly at Dwalin, who tried to look tough by gruffly clearing his throat, but the gentle smile in his eyes gave him away.

Bilbo tried to think of some hints that he could give the dwarves – more romantic things had done in his youth. “Be sure the lights are low. Sidle up and squeeze their hand. Write poetry – even if it’s bad, it’s still flattering. Bring them little gifts to let them know you’re thinking of them. Don’t worry about being shy. If they give you even a half a smile, you know they’re interested. Remember, they may be bashful too, so go slowly. Try to find a speed that’s comfortable for you both. You may end up just talking for a good while before anything physical happens. Only when you’re sure that they’re interested should you proceed.”

“But how do you know?” asked Ori.

“There’s signs, of course. They listen to you, or they want to spend time with you. But probably the best way to find out is to just ask them. Tell them that you’re interested in them too. Honesty is always best.”

The dwarves had many more questions, and Bilbo did his best to answer them. Bilbo encouraged them to practice on one another. “Practice saying hello and sincere compliments.”

When they finally made their way to their beds, Dwalin whispered in Bilbo’s ear, “I’m glad I’ve already got you. This romance stuff sounds complicated.”

“Oh hush!” teased Bilbo. “You’re quite the romantic, no matter how tough you may be. That’s why I like you so much.”

“How long did it take for that to happen?”

Bilbo blushed. “Hardly anytime at all – I was attracted to you that first night when you sat down at my table and ate my dinner. You may have been brash and rude, but you were still kind and helpful and you looked out for me. I dare say I was in shock when you asked me to marry you, but what I told the hobbits about not feeling any regret was true. I think that hopeful feeling was the start of my love for you.”

Dwalin stroked Bilbo’s hair approvingly. “I fell for you the moment I saw you, helping out your neighbor and standing up for yourself. Plus you looked so darling swinging that hatchet all wrong.”

Eyes rolling, Bilbo demanded, “Oh stop. You’re absolutely ridiculous. Now, let’s get some sleep, shall we?”

“You’ve gotten much better with a blade, Bilbo.”

“Thank you, Dwalin.”

“You’re welcome, my hobbit husband.”

“Good night, my dear dwarf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> February 2015: Another outtake - Kíli and Fíli get Ori to practice their manners with them in [Compliments](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3408371).


	10. The Sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I completely make up hobbit and dwarf courting rituals.

The next morning, Bilbo was eating breakfast when Ori and Dori came over and sat next to him. “Good morning,” Bilbo greeted cheerfully. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Good morning,” said Ori. “Yes we’ve eaten already. I was hoping we could ask you a few questions.”

“Of course!” said Bilbo. “Do you want to know more about courting?”

“Yes,” confirmed Dori as he poured himself a cup a tea, adding a large dollop of Beorn’s delicious honey. “We were actually hoping to learning more about hobbit courting methods.”

“Oh! Certainly – though I wish I knew more about dwarven customs so I could compare our two cultures.”

“You’ll have to ask Glóin about that,” explained Ori, “or Bombur – he’s got a sweetheart back home.”

“He does? I had no idea! Has he known her long?”

“Oh, yes. They were neighbors growing up. I think he’s having an easier time of his engagement that Glóin had, since they were already close,” said Dori.

Bilbo scratched his head as he finished off his muffin. “I’m surprised I’ve never heard of her, especially since Glóin is always extolling the virtues of his own wife and son.”

“That’s just the thing,” said Dori. “For dwarves the engagement process is very private. Since there could be dozens of males courting one female, only her immediate family knows who each of the suitors are to prevent fighting. A dwarf in love is often possessive and, therefore, very dangerous.”

“Dwarves used to die in the past,” Ori said with wide eyes.

“But that’s changed now that everything is private,” said Dori, patting Ori’s arm. “Bombur is a bit different – everyone already knew they’d probably get together since they were so close, so no one else bothered to press their suit.” Dori leaned back as he took a large swallow of his tea. “Though I’ve never personally gone through the experience, perhaps I could tell you the basics of dwarven courting, like I taught Ori and Nori.”

“That would be wonderful,” exclaimed Bilbo.

“The first point is time. A dwarf shows their worth by being steadfast and patient. Glóin waiting two years to speak to his intended may seem like a long time to a hobbit, but it’s considered very respectable among the genteel dwarves.” Not wanting to offend Bilbo, he hurried to explain, “Dwalin is a different sort; as a warrior, it’s not surprising that he would do things quickly.”

“Don’t fear insulting me through my husband’s actions,” laughed Bilbo. “I know full well that he’s a hasty sort.”

“Indeed,” said Dori with a smile. “The second point is wealth. A dwarf must be a good provider. Even if the partner wishes to work as well, he needs to show that he is hardworking and responsible. Dwarves will work tirelessly for months crafting jewelry, armor, furniture, or whatever their skill is to create gifts. Of course, if they’re refused at the end, it’s polite to return the gifts, which are usually sold or given to family.”

“You should ask Glóin about all the gifts he gave his wife. Since he’s a banker, instead of crafting them, he made wise investments and earned enough money to buy them,” explained Ori.

Dori went on, “The final point is courage. A dwarf will go on an adventure or slay a beast or travel to the top of a mountain – anything their intended demands. This is either difficult to weed out some of the dwarves or easy if she already knows who she’s going to pick.”

“Bombur got permission to go on the Quest for his adventure,” said Ori. “Even though she was already going to pick him, he’s showing her great devotion by going in her honor. So that’s partially why he’s on the Quest. Of course, Bofur and Bifur had to go with them, but they all believe in Thorin just as much as the rest of us.”

“This is simply fascinating,” Bilbo said. “If it’s not rude, I’ll have to ask Glóin and Bombur for more details.”

“Oh, I don’t think they’ll mind,” said Dori, “especially since you won’t be competing against Bombur.”

“Well,” stated Bilbo. “Now that I have a general idea of what dwarven courting is like, I’ll try to explain what we hobbits normally do.”

Possibly hearing his own name or his cousins,’ Bifur wondered over and sat next Bilbo, listening intently to Bilbo’s explanation. Soon Bofur, Fíli, Kíli, and Nori joined as well, all interested in Bilbo’s story.

“With hobbits, there’s less structure. Certain things are always done, but some are left out depending on the couple and the order of how things are done usually doesn’t matter,” Bilbo began. “Hobbits usually know who they’re interested in before courting begins and rarely are there multiple suitors. The couple talks about it and decides if they’re right for one another. However, if a hobbit is shyer, they can declare their intentions by beginning the courting process without talking beforehand.”

Bilbo sat up straighter as he said, “Personally, I think it’s much better to be upfront about the whole thing. I was given several courting gifts as a young lad by hobbits that I hardly knew and it led to awkwardness and embarrassment on both sides when I turned them down.” Here his voice got a little wistful as he said, “I think that’s why Dwalin caught my attention – he was very straightforward about the whole thing.”

“Hobbits love poetry and songs, so one courting gift is usually some poetry or a song, played if a hobbit can’t sing. Some hobbits even create a new dance. A large meal is always prepared by each hobbit for the families of the opposite parties, and then the couple makes one for both to show they can work together. They always go out walking, and the more formal families require a chaperone – usually an aunt or older cousin. Gifts are usually given once a week and homemade gifts are preferred. And all throughout the courtship, bouquets are given to show how the giver feels.”

“How do flowers do that?” asked Ori.

“The flowers all have different meanings, like a code. Depending on what you put in the arrangement and how many flowers there can affect the meaning.”

“And all hobbits know this?” asked Kíli, incredulously.

“Well, I daresay the hobbit lasses have it all memorized, but I’ve forgotten most of them,” confessed Bilbo. “I think my mother’s book would have a list of them.”

“You brought a book from your mother?” Ori asked somewhat greedily.

“Yes, it was always her favorite, and I just couldn’t leave it behind. It’s a book about hobbit history.”

Eyes wide and pleading, Ori asked, “Could I look at it please?”

Dori poked his younger brother in the ribs. “Obviously it’s a very special book to Master Bilbo. He wouldn’t want anyone getting their ink-stained fingers all over it.”

Bilbo laughed. “No, it’s quite all right. I’ve been keeping it safely away while we’ve been traveling, but I don’t mind sharing. I know Ori will be careful with it.”

“Why does Ori get to look at it?” whined Kíli.

Fíli smacked his brother’s shoulder. “Ori won’t ruin it. Besides you don’t even like books.”

“I like loads of books!”

“Sure, books with pictures and small words!”

As the two princes started rolling around and fighting on the floor, Bilbo cleared his throat and turned back to the others. “Would you like it if I read to everyone?”

“Oh yes!” Ori cried, eyes shining.

“That would be delightful,” said Bofur, settling back in his chair. “Dwarves love a good story.”

“Please, Bilbo,” begged Kíli as he stuck his boot in Fíli’s stomach.

“All right, but you two have to stop fighting and sit still and listen.”

The two immediately stopped. “I’ll get your book,” said Kíli, jumping up.

“It’s in my pack. Just bring the whole thing; it’s way down in the bottom,” Bilbo tried to explain, but Kíli was halfway out the hall. Fíli jumped up as well, and made Ori scoot over so he could sit right beside Bilbo.

Soon Kíli was back with Bilbo’s pack and a confused Dwalin. “Is this nonsense Kíli’s been telling me the truth?” he asked.

“Well, I did ask him to fetch my pack, but I can’t vouch for anything else he said,” replied Bilbo as he opened his pack.

Dwalin grunted, “The boy was telling me how I was in trouble for not giving you flowers.”

“Oh, Kíli,” Bilbo sighed. “I’m ever so glad you were paying at least some attention, but you must have missed the part where I said that I was explaining hobbit courting rituals. Dwalin and I are already married.”

“He can still do those things! It’s really not fair; Dwalin didn’t have to do hobbitish or dwarven rituals or anything!” Kíli folded his arms across his chest. “He always tells us to always be prepared and thorough and not take any shortcuts.”

Fíli smacked his brother once again. “Mind your own business, Kíli. Bilbo said he didn’t want it!” The two looked about to start wrestling again, but a warning glare from Dwalin and a gasp from Ori, who was currently being half-squished by Fíli, stopped them.

Bilbo was feeling somewhat proud of himself for his increasing patience. He was becoming rather good at ignoring the two dwarves’ antics. The book was all the way on the bottom of his, wrapped in a waterproof sheet. Fondly, Bilbo opened the book gently to the first chapter. “Now this first chapter is called ‘The Origins of Hobbits,’ and you may find it dull, but it’s short, since it appears no one really knows where we hobbits come from.”

“I’m sure it will be fascinating, Master Bilbo,” said Dori.

Indeed, Bilbo’s stories were most intriguing to the dwarves. They spent the better part of an hour listening, enraptured, to Bilbo read. He had just finished the chapter on the founding of the Shire, when one of Beorn’s sheep friends summoned the group to luncheon.

Over their noon meal, the dwarves discussed what they had learned, explaining their new knowledge to the others who hadn’t been there. Glóin was most pleased to give Bilbo more insight to dwarven courting methods. Bofur asked if Bilbo knew anything about elvish courting, but Bilbo had to plead ignorance, though he was sure if they ever found their way back in Rivendell, he could find a book or two about the subject.

After their meal, Bilbo took a walk outside, taking pleasure in nature instead of fearing it as he had been since Rivendell. There Dwalin came across him, holding a bunch of flowers tightly in his fist. A large grin spread across Bilbo’s face, and he said, “I did mean it, you know. I don’t expect courting gifts. You’ve already got me.”

Dwalin shrugged and handed the Bilbo the bouquet. “I know you said that, but we did rush things, I can’t help but feel a bit guilty. Once we retake Erebor, I promise that I’ll court you proper by both dwarf and hobbit standards. Besides, this is entertaining in the meantime.” He took Bilbo’s hand in both of his. “The lads tried to explain to me about the flowers having meaning, and I thought picking you some flowers wouldn’t be too difficult while we’re here in Beorn’s fields. Of course, I don’t know what they’re supposed to mean and these daisies were the only ones that I recognized, and I thought that daisies couldn’t mean anything bad, could they?”

Bilbo laughed and threw his arms around Dwalin in a tight hug. When he released Dwalin, he explained, “Daisies are always lovely, and they’re one of the few I do remember. Hobbit children always weave each other daisy crowns for they mean innocence, cheer, and simplicity.”

“Well, I’m just glad that I didn’t give you something horrible. Though, if I do write you poetry, it will be horrible.”

Bilbo laughed. “I will love whatever you give me. Just try not to annoy Thorin too much now that he’s finally starting to warm up to me.” The pair continued their walk around Beorn’s land, knowing that they only had a short while longer until their dangerous journey began again.


	11. The Stinging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now comes the darkest and dankest part of their journey.

Bilbo was miserable. He was constantly damp, too tired to feel scared, and growing very annoyed with the constantly complaining dwarves. After leaving Beorn’s house, they had to travel through a wood so dark and dangerous that they couldn’t leave the path. It was so dim under the thick leaves that they could scarcely tell when the days changed, but it felt like they had been traveling for weeks, for their food stores had dwindled to almost nothing. A day ago the dwarves had made Bilbo climb up a tall tree, but even on the topmost branches, Bilbo was unable to see the edge of the horrid forest.

“I saved you something,” Dwalin said as he fell in stride with Bilbo as they walked down the path.

Bilbo looked up at him, some curiosity coming through the weariness in his expression. “What is it?”

Dwalin just handed him a bundled wrapped in a bit of cloth. Bilbo unwrapped it; it was a roll – softer than the hardtack that they were almost out of – with a large dollop of honey squeezed inside. Bilbo felt his eyes begin to water as he stopped and stared at the treat. “I’ve been saving it for you; I know it ain’t much, but I thought it might perk you up a mite. Plus, if I kept it much longer, it’d probably go bad.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo whispered and tore the roll in two. He gave half to Dwalin, who was about to refuse, but, seeing the firm look on Bilbo’s face, took it and ate it gladly.

As they ate, they walked behind the others, whose steps were slow and plodding. “I know not seeing any sign of the end yesterday was hard, but don’t you give up now,” said Dwalin.

“I won’t, but you may have to carry me soon,” Bilbo said with a heavy sigh.

But it was not Bilbo that ended up needing to be carried. While crossing a murky stream, Bombur fell in the water and fell instantly to sleep and would have drowned, had he not been rescued. Once out of the water, he continued to sleep, and the Company had no choice but to carry him along, for they could not wait for him to wake up.

Eventually, Bombur did wake, and complained more about being woken from his dreams than his friends had complained about carrying him. Thorin told him to shut him up after a few minutes.

Just as the hour came when all feared they could go on no longer, a strange, flickering light appeared in the distance off the path.

“What could that be?” asked Ori to the others who had all stopped and stared as close to the edge of the woods as they could. Soon another light appeared, then another, and then several more, all twinkling near one another far off in the distance between the trunks of the trees.

“We should go see what it is,” said Kíli.

Balin cautioned, “It could be something dangerous.”

“Not necessarily,” countered Fíli. “It could be something wonderful. Anything is better than this.”

“Like a feast,” said Bombur, remembering his dreams.

Thorin recalled the warnings of Gandalf and Beorn to stay on the path. “A feast would be no good, if we never got back alive from it.”

“But without a feast we shan’t remain alive much longer anyway,” argued Bombur, and no one could disagree with that.

Thorin decided to send a few scouts to find out what it was and to report back to the others. Bilbo did not want to go, but decided he’d better offer anyway since he was the quietest, but Dwalin refused and said that he would go since he could defend himself. Nori, since he was the most silent after Bilbo, said that he would go with him.

So Dwalin and Nori creeped and crawled as close to the mysterious lights as they could. They stopped behind a cluster of bushes and peered at the sight before them. In the open glen before them were the lights – torches in the trees and a large fire in the middle. Surrounding the fire were elves – more wild and fierce than Elrond’s people – and, best of all, they were eating and drinking.

Dwalin could hardly believe it, for it seemed more like he had slipped into Bombur’s dreams of feasts than that what he was looking at reality. He turned to Nori, whose own wide eyes confirmed the most improbable sight. Quietly, they used hand signals to come up with their plan: they would get up and walk into the elves’ gathering. They both remembered Bilbo’s training and would try to be as polite as possible. They were so hungry and the food smelt so good, that it didn’t even cross their minds to be embarrassed by asking the elves for help like they normally would have been.

Quietly, the pair rose and walked around the bushes into the glen. But once their feet stepped into the clearing there was a flurry of activity; the torches were put out and the elves vanished with the food. Only the smell lingered, the only sign that they had been there.

In the pitch black of the forest, Dwalin grabbed Nori’s shoulder so to not lose him too. The turned around, but could not see the path they had come from. However, the rest of the Company had seen the lights go out and were calling for the two from the path, Bilbo’s voice louder than all. Falling over many tree roots and hitting many branches with their faces, Dwalin and Nori made eventually made it back to the path, where they explained to the others what had happened.

“Those rotten elves didn’t even give us a chance to introduce ourselves, the cowards,” hissed Nori, feeling worse than the others since he had smelled the food.

However, there was no choice to go on. They trudged along, more despondent than before, except for Bilbo, whose spirits had been lifted knowing that at least some civilized folks lived in this forest.

That night as the exhausted and starving group tried to get some sleep, Dori, who was keeping first watch, cried out, “The lights are coming out again over there, and there are more than ever of them.” Immediately, the Company was awake, and everyone wanted to set out again, knowing what the lights were.

“We must be more cautious,” said Thorin. “Let’s send Bilbo first, since they’re least likely to be scared of him – plus, I doubt they do anything nasty to him.”

Both Dwalin and Bilbo glared a bit at that, but relented when Thorin assured them that everyone else would follow right behind him just in case.

Cautiously, Bilbo crept through the tangled forest as silently as he could. Though the dwarves, especially Dwalin, wanted to be nearby, he made them stay a dozen yards back, until he could no longer hear their failed attempts at sneaking. When Bilbo finally made it to the clearing, he hesitated at the edge, just behind one of the torches in a tree. He straightened his coat, ignoring its deplorable state, and put a pleasant, nonthreatening smile on his face, and stepped into the ring of light.

Only “Good ev—” made it out of his mouth before he collapsed to the ground, the lights and elves vanishing just as before. The dwarves rushed forward, and only by a stroke of luck, did Dori stumble across the prone form of Bilbo, who had been dreaming very pleasantly until Dwalin shook him awake. The dwarves all milled about, calling each other by name and grabbing one another’s elbows and hands in the darkness.

Now, of course, the dwarves had lost the path, and were hopelessly lost in the dangerous forest that they had been warned about without any food or water. Bilbo bit his lip, struggling not to cry. “Oh! I was having such a lovely dream; it was so much better than all of this.”

Dwalin gathered him into his arms in a tight hug. Instead of trying to sleep again, they all wandered through the woods, holding one to each other as best as they could.

It was Kíli who spotted the lights the third time. Desperate, the dwarves and Bilbo hurried towards them, caring little for the noise they were making. They all stopped at the border, but this time Thorin went forward, trying to calm his temper in order to help his people. Once again, the lights went out, but this time the frantic Company panicked and rushed forward, trying to snatch any of the food or an elf and beg for help. In the chaos, Bilbo found himself lost from the others. Though he cried out their names, and heard them calling for one another as well, he eventually lost them completely.

Alone and frightened, Bilbo remembered his mother’s warnings that if he ever got lost, he was to stay put until someone found him. He shook his head, knowing that it was unlikely that anyone would ever find him. Still, there was no point in trying to do anything in the dark. He decided that he had best wait until the meager light of morning could guide him.

Despite his fears, Bilbo must have fallen asleep, for the next thing he realized was a sticky substance on his hands and legs. To his horror, he spotted a large spider trying to wrap him up in his web. Frantic, he pulled out his sword and began slashing about, cutting the webbing and striking at the spider. In a moment to his surprise, the spider lay dead, and Bilbo felt a strange sort of courage come over him standing alone in the dull light, having killed the beast.

Wiping the spider’s blood of his sword on a patch of weeds, he decided the weapon needed a name. “I shall call you Sting,” he said to the sword, putting it back in its sheath. Determined to find his friends, Bilbo set out once more. It took him far longer than he would have liked, stumbling through the forest, but soon he heard the cruel noises of the spiders and the sounds of the dwarves being wrapped up in webbing and bit.

Immediately, Bilbo raced to save his friends. He climbed trees and stabbed at the spiders with Sting until they ran off, then he untied as many of the dwarves as he could. When they came back, he tried to get the dwarves to defend themselves, but they were too groggy with poison, so he attacked the spiders himself. Eventually, he managed to free all the dwarves, and he led them safely away while they limped behind him. The rush of battle eventually left Bilbo, and he grew weary once again as he tried to keep the others moving forward. Eventually, they noticed that Thorin was lost. Fíli and Kíli were afraid that the spiders still had him, but Bilbo was certain that there were no more dwarf-shaped bundles. Besides, they were too tired and too lost to ever find their way back. So Bilbo led them on even though he did not know which direction to lead them, but soon that problem was solved for him.

A group of elves stood before them.

But these elves were not feasting and making merry, and they did not run away at the first sign of trouble. They were warriors, each of them, bows drawn and aimed at the Company, stern looks on their haughty faces.

Bilbo stepped forward and bowed, ignoring the weapons. “Good evening. Bilbo Baggins at your service.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I was going to skip most of Mirkwood and head straight for the elves, but things got away from me.


	12. The Capturing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves meet the elves and do their best to behave. Bilbo is very proud with the dwarves and very annoyed with the elves.

Bilbo had just said good evening and introduced himself to the heavily-armed elves that now surrounded the Company, but the elves said nothing in response. A tall, female elf with long, red hair stepped forward, but said nothing, only leaning closer to Bilbo.

Bilbo thought that he should address her, but keep vague until they knew the elves’ intentions. “Ma’am,” he said, bowing at the waist, “my friends and I have been traveling for a long time and have become lost in the woods. We are out of food and water and were just attacked by horrible spiders, and have been looking for help.”

The elf said nothing, but instead leaned back and walked among the dwarves, taking in their haggard and disheveled appearances. Then at some unseen signal, several elves lowered their bows and walked up to the dwarves. Bilbo would have sighed in relief, but he noticed that his friends were being blindfolded and their hands were being bound in front of them.

“Now, hold on a moment, if you please, ma’am,” protested Bilbo. “I assure you that we mean you no harm. There’s no reason for this!” The elves said nothing, but Dwalin took Bilbo’s hand. He looked exhausted as he shook his head; there was no fight left in any of them. Bilbo nodded back and gave Dwalin’s hand a squeeze.

Soon they were all blindfolded and bound together with rope connecting their wrists together in a long line. Bilbo was put at the end, away from Dwalin, both of which irked him. Fortunately, though the bonds were snug, he could still wiggle his fingers. So the Company, trussed and defeated, stumbled over root and rock to an unknown location by an unfriendly enemy.

Eventually, their blindfolds were removed, and Bilbo blinked. There was light, but it was from torches and lanterns instead of the sun. Even Bilbo could tell that they were underground. The elves kept them bound as they were lead through grand, winding passage ways into a large hall.

A couple of dwarves, despite being so exhausted, gasped at the grandeur of the elf-king’s court. Though also underground, it was as different as night and day from the dwarves own architecture. The designs were organic and wavy, somehow looking delicate, yet also as strong as steel. The torches reflected off thousands of silver and white gems worked into the walls, columns, and arches.

The female elf led the Company towards the throne. Upon it sat the elf-king, who was leaning back lazily talking to the only other blond elf in the room, who stood beside him. However, when as they approached, Bilbo noticed the elf-kings eyes flicker to them several times, and they were sharp and clear, unlike his languid form.

No one said anything, but the elf next to the king, flicked his hand, and the guards untied their prisoners. Bilbo rubbed his wrists and stepped around the others and gave the king a low bow, but said nothing.

“A Halfling?” said the elf-king, leaning forward in interest.

“Yes, your majesty,” said Bilbo with another bow for good measure. “My name is Bilbo Baggins.”

“And you are the leader of this raggle-taggle band of dwarves?”

Bilbo darted a glance back at Balin, who shook his head once. “No, your majesty. I am only a member of the Company. But since our leader is missing, and I am the least weary from our battle with the spiders, I will speak for us.”

“You fought with spiders? No wonder you look so terrible – they must be a dangerous enemy for a dwarf, though not so for an elf,” said the blond beside the elf-king.

“I was the one who fought off the spiders, erm, sir?” said Bilbo somewhat proudly.

The blond only raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Bilbo went on, “As I told this nice lady here, we became lost in your woods and have run out of food and water. Now I ask for medicine and help for my companions.”

Ignoring his request, the elf-king said sternly, “Why did you and your folk three times try to attack my people at their merrymaking?”

Bilbo snorted, but very quietly. “We did not attack them. We came to ask for help for we were starving!”

The king gave him a cold stare and said, “That is what your leader said.”

“You have Thorin?” burst Fíli, looking up from supporting his swaying brother.

“I want to see him right—” started Kíli, who was about to faint, but Bilbo interrupted him.

“Thank you for taking in our leader. We would be most pleased if we could see him at your convenience.”

“Perhaps,” said the elf-king. “The dwarf refused to tell me of the reason for your journey. Am I correct in assuming that the rest of you will do the same?”

The dwarves all nodded, except Kíli, who slipped from his brother’s weakened grasp and would have fallen to the floor if the female elf had not caught him. She set him upright with a distasteful look, but Kíli just stared at her. He exclaimed, loudly to the entire hall, “You’re the prettiest girl I ever acquainted,” and fell over in a faint.

In her shock, the elf did not catch him this time, but gave a quick look to the elf-king, and knelt beside Kíli. “The venom is still coursing through his veins, sire,” she said.

“Take them all to the healers, but watch them closely. Take their weapons and go through their things, since they refuse to explain themselves. Feed and clothe them, and then take them to the dungeons,” said the elf-king.

“I beg your pardon, your majesty,” Bilbo said, stepping forward hastily. “This seems quite unfair to me, though I am just a simple hobbit. In the Shire we would never treat guests like prisoners.”

“Guests?” said the king haughtily, rising from his throne and striding toward Bilbo. “Guests are friends, and friends do not lie to one another.”

“We have told you no lie,” said Bilbo, standing straight and tall as the elf-king towered above him.

“You have not told me all the truth.” As the king stared down at him, Bilbo crossed his arms over his chest and glared right back. A few moments passed, but when Bombur dropped down on the floor, the corner of his mouth turned up just slightly, and he waved his hand. Elves came and took the dwarves by the arms, roughly lifting the shorter ones almost off the ground. The dwarves were too tired to protest. Bilbo wanted to kick and bite as two elves grabbed him forcefully, but he kept silent. “Bring the Halfling back to me after he has been restored,” said the elf-king as Bilbo was half-carried out of the room.

Bilbo wanted to turn and glare, but suddenly a wave of exhaustion passed over him, and he just didn’t care. He knew it was childish, but he let himself hang limply between the two elves, not that he weight was much of a burden to them.

They were taken to a large infirmary. There were a few other elvish patients there, but not many, and the dwarves were curtained off from them. Three elves in white robes came over and the lady elf said, “King Thranduil commands that these dwarves and Halfling be treated. The dwarves have been bitten by spiders.” She turned to Bilbo. “You weren’t bitten, correct?”

“No,” said Bilbo. The dwarves were climbing on tall cots, but Bilbo didn’t have the strength to attempt it.

The elf pursed her lips and lifted Bilbo up. Normally, that would have been humiliating, but he was so grateful to lie back that he couldn’t be bothered to care. “Good,” said the elf, looking him over, before turning back to the healers. “They’re malnourished and dehydrated as well. Keep a close eye on them. You guards will remain here at all times. Let them rest. I will be back in a few hours to search them.” Commands given, she seemed to hover almost awkwardly by Bilbo, but said nothing before turning to leave. Her stride was sure, but she missed a step when Kíli tiredly waved goodbye.

Bilbo snorted. Kíli would be furious with himself when he regained his senses. Right now though, it was nice to be taken care of. More healers came and started working on the sickest dwarves first. Bilbo had to wait, but way happy enough to lie there. When it was his turn, the male healer’s hands were gentle, but brusque, and he did not speak or meet Bilbo’s eyes.

Several minutes later, a pair of elves brought in a cauldron and pitchers. They set about serving crystal glasses of water and bowls of hot, light soup to the patients. Possibly since they were cooks and enjoyed watching others eat their food, these two seemed more agreeable. One even stopped to chat with Bilbo. “We’ll bring you more food later,” he said as he peered curiously at Bilbo’s toes, which were, thankfully now clean, “but too much too soon will make you ill.”

“It’s very good,” replied Bilbo. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. I’d better go now (Tauriel’s back and she’s giving me a dirty look), but I hope I can see you later.” With that the elf left, Tauriel, their guard, walked over to the dwarves and Bilbo.

“The guards will search you before taking you to your cells.” Several guards came forward and started patting the dwarves and taking anything that resembled a weapon.

“What is that?” Bilbo turned and looked to see the blond elf that had stood by the elf-king looking at something in the guard’s hands near Glóin.

“It’s a locket, Prince Legolas,” said the guard, passing it over.

Deftly, the elf-prince opened it and peered inside. Bilbo had seen the pictures therein many times before. “What is this ugly creature?” asked the elf.

“That’s my wife, you—” but Glóin stopped when Óin kicked him.

“I am sorry,” said Legolas vaguely. “And who’s this?”

“That’s my handsome son, Gimli. A braver, fiercer warrior you’ll never meet,” Glóin bragged, daring the elf to disagree.

“He looks like you,” commented the elf-prince. “Why isn’t he here?”

“The lad’s too young.”

“Ah, of course. You wouldn’t want to endanger your child on such a dangerous trip.”

“He can handle himself just fine, better than you, most like.”

“Doubtful,” sniffed the elf. “Is he an archer?”

“Nay, he wields axes like his father and grandfather.”

“Well, that explains it. Axes are no good against a dragon, are they?”

“Gimli could—who said aught about a dragon, laddie?”

The elf only smiled serenely and turned to the guard. “Let him keep the locket. Perhaps it’ll keep him company in the dungeons, until he or the others decide to talk. For now, the Halfling comes with me.”

Dwalin protested, but Bilbo patted his shoulder and whispered, “I’ll be back soon. Besides, without dwarves present, the king might more inclined to listen. I’ll find out where they’re keeping Thorin if he’s not in the dungeons with you.”

Legolas walked beside Bilbo through the halls to the throne room. Bilbo cleared his throat. “This place is rather different from what I expected. I’ve read about this place, but the pictures did it little justice.”

The elf-prince stopped and placed his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “If I may caution you, Master Baggins, be careful in dealing with my father. Do not lie to him. This is his realm, and you are at his mercy.”

Bilbo straightened his waistcoat and said, “Fear not, prince. Hobbit are always on their best behaviors when guests in another’s house.”

Lips turning in a more sincere smile than his father’s, Legolas said, “Perhaps more so than dwarves or elves?”

“I don’t know,” Bilbo said, shrugging and turning to continue on their way. “Lord Elrond was very hospitable.”

“Lord Elrond may be one of the best among our kind. I have not seen him in an age, for troubles at home keep me near. Perhaps, someday soon, I shall have the opportunity to visit Imladris once again. And though we are not in his halls, I assure you that your group will not be mistreated here. You have my word.”

“But we will not be allowed to leave?”

“That is up to my father.” With that, the pair entered the throne room, and Legolas left Bilbo alone in the room with the king.

Thranduil was back, seated on his ornate throne. Bilbo walked forward and bowed, though perhaps not as low as before. “You wished to see me, your majesty?”

“Come sit, Halfling.” The elf-king motioned to a low chair that had been placed near the throne. “It has been far too long since I have seen one of your kind.”

Bilbo obeyed, feeling like a museum piece as Thranduil’s sharp eyes looked him over carefully. The king even ran his long fingers once through Bilbo’s curly hair. “I find it most peculiar to find a hobbit traveling with dwarves, especially ones that come from far away where hobbits are normally found. Will you tell me of your homeland?”

Bilbo agreed and spoke of Bag End and the Shire, but only spoke briefly, since he was beginning to feel a bit homesick. He ended with, “Perhaps you could visit someday.”

Thranduil said, “That is most gracious of you to offer, but danger in my forest keeps me here. Spiders invade and orcs raid and now a group of dwarves and a hobbit find themselves lost in my kingdom. One of them is the displaced king of Erebor, and though they all refuse to tell me what they are doing, it is fairly obvious what it is. Do you agree?”

Bilbo only said, “May I please see Thorin, your majesty?”

“Not now,” said the elf-king.

“He’s not hurt, is he?”

“Less than the rest of you, since my people took him the third time you attacked and before you met the spiders.”

“Attacked?” Bilbo scoffed. “I hardly think begging for help is an attack… your majesty. And I also think that you have no right to keep us here.”

“No right? This is my realm.” Gone were the last remnants of friendliness in the elf-king’s face.

“We pose no threat to you or your people, yet you refuse to let us go.” Bilbo crossed his arms across his chest and looked the king square in his eyes.

“If you are going to Erebor, there is a very large threat to my people that your stubborn dwarven king will stupidly awaken.”

Bilbo only said, “You should let us go.”

“I will not suffer any threat to my people.”

“Then talk to Thorin! The two of you must be able to come to some compromise.”

“I will speak to him – every single day – but there will be nothing to say until he answers my questions.”

Bilbo laughed. “You yourself called him stubborn. The pair of you may be not-speaking for a very long time.”

“We shall see,” said Thranduil. “You may leave.”

Bilbo stood up and walked away from the throne, knowing a guard would be there to meet him and take him to the dungeons. Bilbo had no desire to go to any dungeons, no matter what the prince had promised. As he walked, he dejectedly put his hand in his pocket and touched the ring.

Of course! Bilbo had forgotten all about the magic ring since he had worn it while fighting the spiders. He smiled. It was time to find Thorin and the others and come up with a plan to escape. There were times for being polite, and there were times for buglaring.

When the door opened before her, Tauriel expected to see the hobbit emerge, but saw no one. She frowned and strode towards her king to ask where the hobbit was, but Bilbo was long gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now I'm leaving for a two-day conference, but I stayed up late to get this chapter finished!


	13. The Imprisoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves mind their manners, the elves show their true colors, and Bilbo's just about had enough.

As Bilbo snuck away from Tauriel and the throne room, he decided on a plan. First, he needed to find Thorin, and then he could locate the other dwarves. Unfortunately, Thranduil’s place was as confusing and twisting as his own mind was.

Bilbo stayed in the shadows, keeping to the edge of hallways as elves rushed all about. Even though he was invisible, he would surely be found if an elf tripped over him. They can’t all be looking for me, he thought. Such a fuss for one hobbit!

Finally, Bilbo came across the elf-prince commanding a group of soldiers, so he crept near to listen. “Make sure no harm comes to the Halfling if you find him, or the king will be most displeased.” He turned to one guard, “Take three others and join the guard by the dwarf-king’s door.”

The elf nodded and called three of her soldiers, and they ran down the hall. In his hast to follow her, Bilbo ran too close to Legolas and his head brushed the underside of the prince’s sleeve. But the prince did not act like he felt it but hurried in the opposite direction.

It was difficult following the swift elves, but Bilbo managed to find his way to where Thorin was being kept. Though he couldn’t tell much since he was looking at a door, Bilbo was fairly certain this wasn’t the dungeon. It appeared that he was in living quarters – how nice, he couldn’t tell with all the elegant elvish construction everywhere.

Now to get into the room.

Apparently, Bilbo’s luck was not out yet. The elves were arguing amongst themselves, until the female snapped at them. She unlocked the door to check on Thorin, and keeping to the shadows, Bilbo crept past her and into the room.

It was very nice. Though there were no windows or other exits, it was clearly someone’s sitting room. There were comfortable chairs and couches, as well as bookshelves, low tables, and even a chandelier. And there was Thorin, ignoring the all of splendor and sitting angrily on the floor, back to the door.

As soon as the guard shut the door behind her, Bilbo slipped off the ring and snorted. “Well, at least they haven’t been starving you.”

Thorin did not yelp, but it was close. “Bilbo, how did you get in here?”

Bilbo ignored that and walked over. He leaned forward, taking Thorin’s face in his hands and looking him over to make sure that he was injured. “They haven’t been torturing you either. Unless the furniture is somehow dangerous.” He got up and sat on nearby chair. “Nope. Quite comfortable. Maybe it’s only dangerous for dwarves.”

Thorin glared. Bilbo looked around and saw what appeared to have once been an end table all smashed to pieces. “Oh, Thorin! You’ve got to learn to control your temper. You’ll have to pay for that.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Don’t argue with me, Thorin Oakenshield. I saved your life, and now I’m going to save you from this wretched prison cell.”

Thorin did not pout, but it was close. “I saved your life as well. Several times.”

“And I have said thank you. But honestly, that’s not what this is about. We have to come up with a way to get you out of here. First, though, I need to find the others. Thranduil sent them to the dungeons.”

“That bas—”

“Mind your language, your majesty.”

Thorin crossed his arms over his chest, but relented. “I apologize, Master Baggins. Now, if you can get me a sword or knife, I will slay those in the hall.”

“Thorin, you can’t kill them!” Thorin raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’m sure that you _can_ kill them, but you shouldn’t. Besides, what then? I’m the only one who can sneak about without being seen. We’ll be wandering around, trying to find the dungeons. You’ll be caught in minutes.”

Thorin frowned. “You are right, but they would only catch me because we are in their home.”

“Don’t underestimate them, Throin. Thranduil is extremely shrewd, and his son may be a brat, but appears to take after his father. Plus there are a whole lot of them.”

Thorin nodded. “Very well. You must find the others, and you can pass messages back and forth until we come up with a way out of here.”

“I suppose apologizing to the elf-king isn’t worth mentioning.”

“If I thought that would save the others, I would be willing. The elf will not let us go so easily.”

Bilbo sighed. “All right then. I’ll go find the others, you stay here, think of ideas, read some books, sit on the furniture, or whatever else you feel like.”

Thorin smiled slightly. “How are you going to get out? They do lock the door.”

“Oh, bother.”

It took an hour, but eventually Bilbo got out when Thorin was brought food. Food that smelled very good and made Bilbo’s stomach rumble so loudly that he would have been heard had he not been half way down the hallway.

Finding the dungeons was not as easy as finding Thorin, but eventually Bilbo found his way there. They weren’t as bad as he had feared, but they were a jail and nowhere near as opulent as Thorin’s accommodations.

He found Óin and Balin first for they were nearest the entrance and the only two in adjacent cells. Perhaps the elves thought that the two oldest dwarves would be the least threat, but they were wrong, for once Bilbo told them that he had found Thorin, the pair was full of ideas. Balin had several things that he wanted Bilbo to find out, like how close they were to one another and how far from the main gate they were. Óin had several suggestions of herbs that Bilbo would have to steal from the kitchens that were good at keeping spirits up and maintaining health that he could smuggle to the dwarves.

Given these tasks, Bilbo finally managed to get away, promising that he would return soon. He found Kíli next, who was lying on his cot, wrapped in several blankets. There was a pitcher of watch by his head, and Bilbo made Kíli drink an entire glass while he watched, before he would tell Kíli Tauriel’s name.

Kíli smiled dreamily once he had heard it. “Tauriel is the most beautiful name ever.”

“Did you hit your head when you fainted?” Bilbo asked, arms crossed over his chest.

“I don’t think so. Hey, do you think you could ask her to come down here? Tell her I’m feeling sick.”

“Kíli, if I do that, she’ll see me and throw me in another cell.”

Kíli sighed. “I suppose that wouldn’t do.”

“I suppose not.”

“Could you write her a note?”

“No.”

“I’ll write the note. You just deliver it.”

“No.”

“Bilbo, you’re not being fair!”

“Kíli, you have gone mad! You’re going to be kicking yourself once you regain your senses.”

“I can’t help it, Bilbo. I’m in love.”

“Please stop.”

After Bilbo left Kíli to his daydreams, he found Nori, who had a worrying amount of insight into prison organization and wanted to send several messages to Balin once Bilbo found his brothers.

Bilbo came across Fíli next, who was frantically pacing the floor. “I’m here, Fíli,” said Bilbo softly as to not startle him.

Fíli grabbed the bars, “Have you found my brother? Have you found Uncle Thorin?”

“Yes,” said Bilbo, patting Fíli’s hand. “They’re both fine. Though Kíli is mooning over that elf, so he may not be all right in the head.”

Fíli laughed. “He’ll be fine. I’m just glad he’s safe. Thank you for finding them. You should go check on the others – make sure they have enough blankets, especially Ori.”

Bilbo smiled and nodded and hurried off once again.

He hadn’t realized how anxious he was for Dwalin, until he saw him. “Oh, Dwalin,” he sighed, seeing Dwalin sitting on his cot, slumped over, head in hands. “I’m here, sweetheart.”

Dwalin jumped up and stumbled to the bars. A huge smile split his face. “I knew you would be all right,” he said, voice choking. “I knew even an elf wouldn’t hurt a hobbit. I knew you were too clever for them. I knew you would find me.” Reaching between the bars, Bilbo and Dwalin held each other as best as they could for several long minutes.

Bilbo explained their situation as Dwalin held on to him. It felt so wonderful to have each another once again, but soon Dwalin released him, saying the others needed his comfort as well now.

So Bilbo left and found the others. Bombur was still sleeping, was roused when Bilbo called his name and said he felt much better. Ori was in good spirits, excited at the turn of events, but he did complain that he wished he could be exploring like in Rivendell with Mr. Elrond. Bofur and Bifur appeared calm as well, especially once they saw Bilbo’s cheery face. Dori had been pacing his cell like Fíli, until Bilbo found him and told him that his brothers were well. Glóin had broken the cot in his room in frustration, but appeared ashamed by his actions. Bilbo said losing his temper was understandable, seeing how they had been treated.

Bilbo promised each of them that he would watch out for them, passing messages and getting them things they needed as best as he could, while they all worked out a plan to escape. He told them to be patient and to mind their manners, since that would bother the elves even more than getting riled up. That fact held great appeal for the dwarves.

For the next several days, Bilbo ran about almost constantly, passing messages, spying on elves, or seeking exits. He could tell the dwarves were trying to be patient with him, but they were bored and seeing Bilbo was their main form of amusement. So Bilbo raced about, becoming very clever at avoiding elves, though less were still searching for him, and rested only when Dwalin made him sit by him.

Sneaking into Thorin’s room was the most difficult, but they soon came up with a system. Bilbo would sneak in when Thorin was brought food, sit and talk with the king, and then sneak out when Thorin made a racket in the room and the elves came to check on him. Thorin was running out of furniture.

The dwarves’ other form of amusement was the elves. The guards would stop by the dwarves’ cells and goad them, but for the most part, the dwarves managed to hold their temper, which made the elves angry themselves. However, if Tauriel, Legolas, or another captain of the guard caught them at it, the elves were reprimanded severely as Bilbo found out. 

Bilbo found himself liking both Tauriel and Legolas. Tauriel was always fair and kind, if firm. After a few days, she would stop and chat for a few minutes with each of the dwarves, even Kíli, who had yet to get over his infatuation. Bilbo was starting to worry about the young dwarf.

Bilbo got the impression that Legolas was an active sort, striding briskly through his father’s dominion, riding out to battle spiders, or checking on the dwarves – always moving. Instead of resenting the extra time he was forced to spend indoor watching the dwarves, he seemed to grow to sympathize with their plight. Bilbo guessed the elf-prince could not imagine being locked up for as long as they had.

Bilbo often spotted trinkets in the dwarves’ cells – quill and parchment in Ori’s, wood and very small whittling knives for Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur, yarn and knitting needles for Dori, books in Westron for all of them, and so on. When Bilbo asked about it, they all shrugged and said they just found them in their cells, left while they slept.

Later, Glóin confessed that he had seen the elf-prince leave the gifts. “The laddie isn’t a bad sort, despite his poor manners,” Glóin explained. “I think he’s trying to do right by us, not just to get us on his side and confessing our plans. He does ask about you often, but I don’t tell him a thing. Be careful when you’re dashing about, I have a suspicion he knows something is up with you. I think it’s a sore spot, how he can’t find you.”

Altogether, Bilbo wasn’t too worried about his friends. The elf-king may have been unrelenting, but he was too proud to mistreat them. One day, Bilbo spied Thranduil leaving Thorin’s quarters (the elf-king often visited the dwarf, but Thorin refused to say what happened when he did), and he thought he saw a regretful look on his face, before he shaped his flawless features back into an unreadable expression. Bilbo wondered what guilt the elf felt.

It took time, but eventually the Company came up with a way to escape. So five drunk guards, thirteen picked locks, dozens of winding passageways, thirteen barrels, and one harrowing ride down the river later, the group was stumbling ashore, waterlogged and weary, but fresher and in better spirits for their forced rest.

“I’m glad to be out of that place,” said Óin, pulling his brother out of the water.

“I’m not,” said Ori, who blushed when the others gave him look. “I mean, I’m glad to be out of my cell, but I wish I could have seen more of it.”

“Hush, you,” said Dori with a fond clout on his little brother’s head.

“I wish I could have said goodbye to Tauriel,” moaned Kíli. “She’s going to think I’ve abandoned her.”

“I’m sure she’s glad to be rid of you,” Dwalin grumped as he pulled Bilbo into his lap as they sat on the sandy bank.

“Like you can talk,” said Kíli. “You’ve already got the one you love.”

Dwalin squeezed Bilbo tighter.

Thorin said, “You’ll get over her soon enough, nephew. One elf’s pretty much like the next.”

Fíli put his arm around his brother’s shoulder, and they both glared at their uncle until he turned his face away.

They all sat in silence for awhile, each lost in their own thoughts until Ori piped up, “Where are we?”

Balin spoke up first, “This must be Lake-town.”

“We’re almost there,” said Thorin, rising and looking to the north.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> February 2015: Outtake showing Legolas's POV, [The Elvenking's Halls](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3409556).


	14. The Traveling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Lake-town to Erebor.

Once the people of Lake-town figured out who Thorin was, they gave the Company a warm welcome. Excitement spread and soon a crowd had gathered full of well-wishers, gift-givers, and back-slappers. Poor Bilbo was tumbled about on their way to visit the Master of Lake-town until Dwalin tucked him under his arm.

Always on the lookout for a good investment, the Master made sure they had good accommodations and access to supplies for the last leg of their journey. Thorin was polite and thanked the Master carefully, but was careful to make no promises. (And if Thorin looked around to see if Bilbo noticed his good behavior that was too bad for Bilbo had been taken upstairs to rest since he had developed a cold.)

While Bilbo was recuperating the dwarves all took good care of him. Dwalin sat by his side until Bilbo forced him to go out, saying that it was only a cold, not the plague. Ori read to him, Dori brought him tea, Bombur made him chicken soup, and Fíli and Kíli worked so hard to amuse him that they tired him out even more, so they were forbidden to return until Bilbo was completely better.

Dwalin assisted Thorin and Balin in getting supplies ready, and they had several heated conversations about Bilbo’s next task as their burglar. Thorin and Balin promised him that they would make sure Bilbo was safe, but their hobbit did have a job to do. Hopefully, sending Bilbo would confuse the dragon and keep everyone safe like Gandalf planned. Dwalin wasn’t fully satisfied, but he relented as long as Bilbo’s safety was a priority.

The rest of the time when they weren’t preparing or attending to Bilbo, the dwarves enjoyed the pleasures of Lake-town. All the local pubs wanted to say that the dwarves had drunk there, so they gave the Company free drinks, so much so that the dwarves found themselves visiting several pubs a night. The older dwarves kept a close eye on younger ones, and everyone stayed out of trouble.

For the most part, the people of Lake-town were delighted with the dwarves. Many of them had ancestors from Dale, who had told them about Erebor, so meeting the dwarves was like meeting a character straight out of a book. However, the Master and his cronies, while generous and pleasant, never seemed sincere, but grasping instead. The dwarves avoided them.

One afternoon Bilbo was feeling well enough to sit downstairs by an open window. He wanted to read a book, but found himself waving to curious Lake-town citizens instead. They were most friendly folk, though perhaps they stared a bit longer than etiquette allowed.

As Bilbo sat there, Nori and Ori burst in with a boy in tow. He was taller than the dwarves, but Bilbo wasn’t sure how old he was. “Hello,” said Ori. “Are you feeling better, Bilbo? This is Bain. He wanted to meet you.”

The boy shuffled his feet shyly and bowed, but didn’t say anything.

“Hello,” said Bilbo with a smile. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Nori spoke up, “The lad’s been showing us around – all the best shortcuts and hiding places. I’ve never seen a city built on a lake before – very clever.”

Bilbo knew better than to ask why Nori wanted to know those sorts of things. “That sounds wonderful. I’m glad you’re getting a chance to explore, Ori. I know how interested you are in these different places.”

“Oh yes,” Ori sighed happily.

“Would you like to hear about my people?” Bilbo asked Bain, kindly.

“Yes, please,” the boy said, eyes lighting up.

“Pull up a chair, and I’ll tell you all about hobbits.”

Bilbo spent the next hour talking about his home, while other children came in and sat around Bilbo. He only stopped when Bain’s father came to fetch him. Bard was an archer, a tall, grim fellow, but who thanked Bilbo most politely for putting up with his son’s questions.

“Not a thing,” said Bilbo. “It does my heart good to remember my home.”

“You have come a very long way, haven’t you, Master Hobbit?” asked Bard.

“Indeed I have, but we are almost at the end of our journey. The mountain is so very close.”

“That thought must fill you with fear.”

Bilbo nodded solemnly. “Truthfully, it does. I just have to keep reminding myself who I’m doing this for and how much better things will be with the dragon gone.”

“Have you killed many dragons?” asked Bard, skeptically, but not unkindly.

“I’ve never even seen one,” laughed Bilbo. “I certainly hope I won’t be the one who slays the beast. Hobbits are many things, but I doubt dragon-slayer is one of them. No, we’ll use our wits and come up with a plan together. Yet someone else will have to kill the monster.”

“Someone will,” said Bard. “Come along, Bain. It’s growing late and your friends need their rest even more than you do.”

“Goodbye,” Bain said. “Thank you very much, Master Baggins.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Bilbo smiled and sat back in his chair, wrapping his blanket more tightly around himself. A warm hand settled on his shoulder, and Dwalin’s voice whispered in his ear. “Master Baggins, you are the kindest creature I’ve ever met. Seeing you with those wee ones makes me very happy.”

Bilbo grinned. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Much better still, but I’m tired now.”

“Shall I carry you to bed?”

“If you do, I’ll pinch you. My feet work just fine, thank you very much.” Dwalin laughed, and together they went upstairs for a long rest for they were leaving the next day for the Lonely Mountain.

Thorin promised that they would go at whatever pace Bilbo needed, but they had to leave Lake-town for Durin’s Day was fast approaching. The Company was a merry bunch, happy to be so close to their destination and eager to distract themselves from the peril that lay ahead.

It took them several days to reach the base of the mountain and another to hike up it. If not for the guidance of a friendly thrush, the group would have never found the secret door. On Durin’s Day, the door was revealed, and when Thorin unlocked it, they all stood amazed and silent in the doorway.

Bilbo began, “Well, I suppose it’s time for me to fulfill my contract, isn’t it?”

“Oh, don’t make him go, Uncle,” begged Kíli, grabbing Thorin’s arm. “There’s a dragon down there, and we’re so fond of him!”

“Please,” said Ori, with wide, teary eyes. “It’s much too dangerous.”

“Come now, lads,” said Bilbo, patting them on their shoulders. “It’s my job after all, and I won’t have anyone else going down there when it would be much more perilous for them. I’ll be all right.”

“You can’t know that for sure,” said Dori with a worried look.

Bofur spoke up, “Someone else should go with you.”

“I don’t mind,” volunteered Balin. “If we don’t want the dragon to smell dwarf, I could go halfway, ready to call for help if needed.”

Everyone broke out with suggestions and ideas until Thorin silenced them with raised hands. “Master Baggins certainly isn’t going down there right now. We will come up with a plan that will keep everyone as safe as can be when dealing with such a beast. Right now we’ll set up camp. Get to it.”

Finally it was decided that in the morning Bilbo would go down alone, using his magic ring and silent feet to protect him. Dwalin and Balin would go partway down the passageway, ready if trouble arose, but not close enough to cause any.

After supper, the dwarves were quiet, not swapping stories or playing their instruments like they often did. Bilbo spent the night safely tucked in Dwalin’s arms, sleeping better than he ever thought possible with such a morning ahead of him.

However, before he could believe it, Bilbo found himself surrounded by mountains of gold and making polite conversation with a dragon of gargantuan proportions. Smaug was a crafty fellow with a dangerous temper, and Bilbo very nearly did not make it out of his lair.

However, Bilbo did escape and the dragon’s temper proved to be their salvation. When the dragon came out from the mountain to try to find Bilbo, the dwarves had just enough time to hide inside the passageway and shut the secret door behind them. Enraged Smaug attacked Lake-town, where he was brought down by Bard with a little more help from the thrush. Yet, the Company was unaware of what had happened to Smaug and stayed hiding in the mountain until they could bear it no longer and walked down into the kingdom of Erebor.

Whether it was the piles of gold, the incredible dwarven stonework, or the memories of home, the dwarves were speechless once again. They wandered here and there, sometimes exclaiming about some find, but mostly lost in their own thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> February 2015: Read about Nori's adventures in Lake-town here: [Lake-town](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3410267). (Skip, if you'd rather be surprised by the pairings.)


	15. The Compromising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and dwarves try their best to hold their tempers.

Bilbo was feeling extremely anxious as the dwarves wandered around the treasure hall – the dragon was soon to return, and then what trouble they would be in! However, his fears were soon relieved when his little thrush friend flew in the front gates, bringing a great raven with him.

The Company gathered around the birds as the pair flapped down to perch on a railing. “O Thorin son of Thrain, and Balin son of Fundin,” croaked the raven. “I am Roäc son of Carc. Carc is dead, but he was well known to you once. I bring you tidings – some are tidings are joy to you, and some you will not think so good.”

“Greetings,” said Thorin with a bow. “I am at your service. What news do you bring?”

“The birds are gathering around the Lonely Mountain again for word has gone out that Smaug is dead!”

Everyone gasped and stared about in amazement. “How has this happened?” asked Balin.

“This thrush saw it happen. He describes how Smaug razed Lake-town, but he was able to warn one man of the dragon’s only weakness. Thus Bard the Bowman shot down the fell beast.”

The dwarves all cheered, and Nori said, “I knew there was something to that man. Didn’t I say so, Dori?”

Roäc continued, “The Elvenking has come from his dark forests to assist the people of Lake-town. Now they all march on the mountain seeking recompense for the gold that was stolen from them.” 

“Ha!” snorted Kíli. “They’ve got some nerve saying we stole their gold!”

Balin said, “I believe Roäc means the dragon.”

Kíli shuffled his feet and muttered, “Oh, right. Stupid Smaug.”

Bilbo looked around at the dwarves – their faces were varying shades of confusion, sternness, or anger. Thorin’s own face was pale with fury, so Bilbo left Dwalin’s side and walked over to him first. “You look troubled, Thorin? What is it?”

“None of our gold shall be carried off by thieves while we are still alive!” Thorin said in a cold fury.

Bilbo put his hands on his hips and said, “Now hold on just a minute, your majesty; who said anything about thieves – other than Smaug, of course? If Smaug stole from them, then they deserve to get back what is theirs. Did you not hear what the thrush said? We don’t know how badly Lake-town has been destroyed. All those people who took us in and cared for us need our help now. Will you refuse them?”

Thorin’s face softened. “No, of course not,” but his heart hardened again. “The elves have decided to help _them_ , so what help do they need of us?”

Bilbo only knew part of the hurt that Thorin had suffered at the hands of the elf-king, so he said nothing.

Fíli spoke up, “Bilbo’s right, Uncle. They’re good people. There’s more gold here than I could have possibly imagined. We can give them some of it, right? They’re our friends.”

Dwalin said, “Besides winter is fast approaching, and we’re already short on food as it is. We can always trade the gold for food if giving it up won’t do.”

“Remember Dale?” said Balin softly, sitting down on the floor with others following his lead. “Erebor depended on that city of man for food and wood, while Dale needed us for metal, stone, and protection. You young lads won’t remember it, but it was a prosperous time for all.”

“If Lake-town is destroyed,” said Bofur, “They need a new home and why not Dale?”

“We could help them rebuild it,” said Dori.

Ori’s eyes were bright. “We could make it even better than before.”

“All right! All right!” said Thorin sternly, but there was a smile in his eyes. “We will search the record books if we can find them to see what gold was already in Erebor before the dragon. The remainer can be given to the men of Lake-town, and they may do with it what they wish. Erebor and Dale will both be rebuilt.”

The dwarves cheered, and Bilbo gave Thorin’s hand a quick squeeze before hugging Dwalin tightly. “We should get ready for them,” he suggested.

“How long until they arrive?” Thorin asked the birds.

“Since they travel in such a large assembly, it should take them a week to arrive,” explained Roäc.

“Then we have much to do,” said Thorin.

Balin, Glóin, and Ori were tasked with finding the records and, at least, beginning to figure out how much gold there was in the mountain. Óin and Bifur’s job was to seek out any medical supplies that may have been undamaged just in case. Bofur, Kíli, and Dori were to explore and find safe living quarters and build furniture if needed. Bombur was in charge of the food, and when Bilbo wasn’t helping the dwarves to prepare for their guests (as he insisted on calling them) was to be his assistant. Thorin, Dwalin, Fíli and Nori were making sure the mountain was safe for, as Thorin reminded them, they did not know the exact intentions of their “guests.” Bilbo frowned, but he didn’t argue, since they were only fourteen alone in the mountain, and while they may not be elves or men, they had plenty of enemies.

The next morning after Bilbo finished washing up the dishes after their meager breakfast, Kíli came bounding in. “Look what I found, Bilbo!” With a triumph smile, he thrust a pile of fabric into Bilbo’s arms.

“What is this, Kíli?”

“It’s cloth, Bilbo.”

“I see that.” Bilbo ignored Kíli’s rolling eyes. “What am I to do with it?”

“Oh! Bofur, Dori, and I found this great clothing workshop, and Dori almost fainted for all the yarn, but Bofur remembered you saying that you could sew. So I thought maybe you could make us something so that we would look grand in and not shame Thorin in front of those poncy elves.”

Bilbo laughed. “That’s a very good idea, Kíli, but I’m more of mender than a sewer. It’ll have to be something simple.”

Kíli shrugged. “Sounds fine. I can’t sew anything. Mother tried to teach me to darn my socks for when I travel, but I always make Fíli do it since I’m rubbish at it. One time I stabbed my toe!”

“You’re supposed to take the socks off your feet first, Kíli.”

“There!” said Kíli triumphantly, patting Bilbo on the back. “You already know more than I do. You’ll be great. Just make it quick – we’ve only got like a week.” With that the young prince ran off, eager to explore more of his new home.

Bilbo sighed, but began looking through the pile; he had an idea. Then he sighed again so loudly that Bombur looked up at him. “He’s forgotten needles and thread and scissors, the idiot.” Bombur nodded in agreement. Bilbo picked up the pile of cloth and headed out to find the workshop. Hopefully he wouldn’t get lost.

I took Bilbo two days, but he finished his project. He made all the dwarves (and himself) colorful hoods, based on the ones they had brought or lost along their journey. They were simple, but sturdy and would make the Company look unified.

At dinner Bilbo presented the hoods to dwarves, who were most pleased. They were making good progress in getting the mountain ready. The only shadow on their good spirits was that they had yet to find the dwarves’ most valued treasure – the Arkenstone.

Several days later Roäc flew in and told them that the group would arrive the next day. Early in the morning, Bilbo made Dwalin and Dori lug in buckets of water, which Bombur heated over a fire and made all the dwarves take baths. They scrubbed themselves pink, oiled and braided their hair and beards, and dressed in their hoods and the best clothes they had left.

Bilbo made them all line up so he could look them over. They were a handsome group, and Bilbo told them so. “What happened to your thumb, Ori?” Bilbo asked, taking the dwarf’s hand in his.

Ori blushed. “I soaked it in lye. It took off the dirt all right, but dang near took off the nail with it.”

Laughing, Bilbo said, “I’m so proud of you – all of you! Now just remember one thing, mind your manners and be real gentledwarves. And no fighting, no matter what happens.” The dwarves all nodded solemnly. Bilbo straightened Dwalin’s dark green hood and gave him a kiss the cheek.

Roäc flew in, cawing, “The Elvenking and the lake men have arrived! They gather at the front gate.”

The young dwarves rushed to the gate, but were pulled back by the older ones so that they could all proceed out in a more dignified manner. Thorin led the way with Fíli and Kíli on his right and Balin, Dwalin, and Bilbo on his left with the rest of the dwarves following behind.

On the slopes before them stood Bard the Bowman with several of his men beside Thranduil the elf-king. Beside him were his son, Legolas, and the captain of his guard, Tauriel. Behind them were hundreds of elves and men with their banners flapping in the breeze. Thorin stiffened at the armies, but Bilbo gasped when he saw the state of the men – most were wrapped in at least one bandage – and Thorin relaxed.

“Greetings!” hailed Thorin in a loud voice. “What brings such armies to my door?”

Bard stepped forward, tall and grim, “Hail Thorin! We rejoice that you are alive and wish to parley and have council with you.”

“Council we will have,” returned Thorin, “but war we will not, yet you come to my gates with sword and bow.”

Bard bowed his head before speaking again. “The sword and bow that you see before is only half our army. We travel in large numbers to keep safe, while the remainder stay behind to guard our women and children, but not our homes for so great is the calamity that has fallen upon us that we have nothing left. We seek only what is ours, Thorin, so that we may save ourselves.”

“I see that the elves have come to _you_ to help,” Thorin replied. “Why not go to them for salvation?”

Thranduil walked forward, graceful as always. “The lake men are not the only ones who have been plagued for decades by Smaug, O King. We have our revenge and now desire restoration.”

“Restoration – with whom?” snapped Thorin, before calming himself. “I will not parley with armed men at my gate. If you wish to make treaty, you will retreat down our slopes and send only a reasonable number to talk.”

Thranduil fixed him with a cold glare. “So be it. We will bear no weapons against you, but we will leave you to your gold. You may eat that if you will!” Legolas stepped forward and put a calming hand on his father’s arm. Thranduil stood up straighter and said, “We will move further back if we must, but we will treat with you and come to an agreement about our gold.”

“Very well,” said Thorin. “Return when you will, and we will welcome you.” The Company returned to the mountain. Only Kíli looked back – to give Tauriel a wave, which she ignored. Back inside the mountain, Bilbo exhorted them all, saying what a good job they had done keeping their tempers.

Thorin turned to Balin and asked, “What success have you found in finding the treasure records?”

“We have found some undamaged by Smaug,” answered Balin, “though they are incomplete. It will take time for even Glóin to decipher them, possibly months to get an accurate account.”

“I doubt we have months,” said Dwalin. “They will want gold as soon as they possibly can.”

“I agree,” Thorin said. “Do the best you can dividing it up. No one should be cheated out of their share.” The dwarves murmured at that, most of them feeling generous regarding their share, since they had more than they had ever thought.

“If you need to take some of mine, I won’t mind,” said Nori, the gold-desiring elf surprising them all. He shrugged. “I can’t help but think of young Bain. I hope no harm has come to him. If some (some! mind you – not the whole lot of it) of my gold can help him, I would give it gladly.” The others nodded in agreement.

“Very well, since Bilbo has turned you all soft-hearted,” exclaimed Thorin. “We still have to sort it. We can pack up coins and small pieces in sacks, but we have to be careful not to give away any artifacts with important meanings. If the elves get their hands on those, we’ll never get them back.” He turned to the crow and asked, “Roäc, if you will do me one more favor, go to my cousin Dáin, Lord of the Iron Hills and bid him come to either rebuild Erebor or help defend it if we must.”

The dwarves hurriedly set out to do as he said, while Bombur and Bilbo scraped together the best of their remaining stores to feed whoever came to visit. “It’s not much, but it’ll have to do,” said Bombur sadly.

Since they had the sharpest eyes, Fíli and Kíli were sent to watch for movement at the gate and within half to the remainder of the day, Kíli came running back. “The elf-king and Bard have come back.”

“Have their armies moved back?” Thorin asked without any worry.

“Yes, Uncle,” Kíli replied, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Thorin placed a steadying hand on his shoulder and pulled him aside. “Calm yourself, nephew, for you have done well. I am proud of you and your brother. This evening, follow my and Bilbo’s examples for while I can teach you how to be king, Bilbo can teach you how to be wise. Go now and fetch your brother, and I will speak with him too.”

When the Company had assembled, they walked out the gate to greet their guests. Bard and Thranduil led their parties, about twelve in all. Bombur groaned softly, “We’ll never feed them all.” Bofur shushed him.

“Greetings, King Thranduil, Bard, Prince Legolas, and your companions.” Their guests bowed in return, and the group walked into the mountain. In the entryway the men looked about in amazement at what remained of the spender of the dwarven kingdom, while the elves focused on the rubble and looked less impressed.

Dinner was a stilted affair, but would have been much worse had the elves not brought food with them. Kíli was disappointed that Tauriel wasn’t present. Thorin and Thranduil glared at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking and didn’t speak to anyone else. Bard was polite enough, but the other men, while more lively, were more brazen as well. The other elves only talked among themselves no matter what Bilbo tried.

When the meal was finished, Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin left with the group to begin compromising, and the rest of the Company went outside. Though there was definitely a line down the mountain where the camps were set up, a few humans and elves had been curious and had wandered up.

Young Bain came running up when the group came out of the mountain. “Mr. Nori! Mr. Ori!” he shouted. “I saw the dragon!”

“Did you, laddie?” asked Nori. “I’m glad you’re all right then, Bain.”

“It was scary, but Da put me in a boat with some little children and told me to keep them safe. Then he killed the dragon!” Bain was almost quivering with excitement.

“We heard about it,” said Ori. “Your father is a hero.” Bain grinned and nodded in agreement. “He’s in with the others making plans, but later we can show you around the mountain.”

“I’d like that,” Bain said with a grin. “Da says we might move to Dale, and then we’d be neighbors.”

Kíli walked over to a trio of elves talking off to one another. He hesitated a moment before saying, “That’s a nice bow you have there.”

The elf with the bow looked surprised at the dwarf who approached him holding his own bow. “I’ve never seen a dwarf shoot a bow before.”

Kíli grinned, notched an arrow, and sent it soaring up the hillside until it lodged in a knot in a large pine tree. With that a competition was on. Gamely, Kíli faced elf after elf, losing to some, but beating others as Fíli and Ori cheered him on.

Ori and Bain showed off their skills with their slingshots which amused the elves greatly. The others dwarves did well with their own weapons. Overall the elves were better shots, but the dwarves were more skillful in a greater variety of weapons. Bilbo was pleased; although they were competing, the dwarves were being friendly and courteous. Every now and then, one of the elves or men would do something sneaky to cause a dwarf to lose or say something nasty. Bilbo kept a close eye on everyone, but they were doing an admirable job of ignoring the insults.

Just as Bilbo was going to say something to a man poking Ori in the side a bit too hard to be friendly, a group of men walked over to Bilbo. “Are you a baby dwarf?” asked an open-faced fellow.

“No, sir; I am a hobbit. Bilbo Baggins at your service,” said Bilbo with a bow.

“I’ve never met a hobbit before,” said the first man.

“Funny, little creature, isn’t he? Look at his toes,” said another man with a sharp face. “What skill do you have in weaponry?”

“Well, I’m fairly good at conkers,” Bilbo said with a laugh.

“Just as I thought,” said the second man. “He’s like a child. Probably can’t even fight and not big enough to be much use. Maybe he’s their pet.”

“I beg your pardon!” Bilbo said sharply.

“Oh, but he’s fierce!” laughed the second man. “Watch out!” he ruffled Bilbo’s hair a bit more roughly than he meant too, and Bilbo overbalanced and sat down hard.

“What’s going on?” said Kíli sharply, running over.

“No harm done,” said Bilbo. “It was an accident.” Kíli frowned.

“Terribly sorry,” said the man, most insincerely. He offered a hand to pull Bilbo up, but as he did he tugged and released Bilbo suddenly, causing him to stumble and fall a few feet down the mountain.

A hush fell over the group. Bilbo stood up, and Kíli brushed him off. Without a word, Kíli turned back to the smugly smiling man, reached back, and punched him hard in the gut.

Fighting quickly broke out. The men and dwarves were the first to start, but the elves tried to stay out. However, they were soon pushed and shoved into the fighting as well. No one was using weapons, but their fists and feet were dangerous enough.

Bilbo grabbed Bain and pulled the boy off to the side with the few elves that had managed to escape the brawl. Bain was cheering everyone on, but Bilbo just stood there silently.

The fight raged on for far too long in Bilbo’s attention. It only stopped when Thorin ran out and started shouting at everyone. Like wounded dogs, everyone returned to their camps, nursing their wounds. “You stupid fools,” yelled Thorin once they were back inside the mountain. “We just worked out a peace treaty with those pointy-eared weed-eaters and gold-grubbing men, and you jeopardize it because you can’t hold your tempers!”

“I’m sorry, Uncle Thorin, honestly,” said Kíli, holding his stomach, “but when that fellow took out after Bilbo, an innocent bystander—”

“What?” shouted Dwalin. “Who hurt you, Bilbo?” he asked, putting his hands on Bilbo’s arms. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Dwalin. The man was rude, but he didn’t hurt me.”

“He made you fall,” said Ori. Bilbo shook his head, not wanting any more trouble.

“You all did your best, I guess,” said Thorin. “I don’t think they’ll go back on the treaty over this, but you never know, so no more trouble. Stay inside the mountain if you have to. Bard is sending men in tomorrow to pick up their first lot of gold, so I need you all to be ready to help.”

“What about food and Dale?” asked Fíli.

Balin explained, “They’ve already gathered most of their harvests, and Smaug didn’t destroy most of it. As soon as possible, it’s being loaded into wagons and sent here. Bard is then paying the elves for timber from Mirkwood to build temporary structures for the winter. In the spring, reconstruction of Dale and then Erebor will take place. Until then, everyone will live in Dale.”

“Can’t we stay in the mountain?” asked Bofur.

“The Company is going to stay,” said Thorin, “to protect the gold. When Dáin arrives, more dwarves will help guard the treasure. I’ve sent word to Ered Luin for the dwarves to wait until spring to begin traveling here, but I doubt your mother will listen.” Fíli and Kíli smiled happily at that. “So you must behave. If everything falls apart after we’ve come so far, your mother will have all of our beards.”

Despite their sincere promises, the next day a fight broke out again. The fighting was fiercer this time and only ended when Gandalf rode swiftly into camp, shouting, “Halt! Dread has come upon you all! The goblins and orcs are upon you, swiftly riding wargs.”

There was great confusion. The camps of men and elves came swiftly together in front of the gates of the mountain. Dwalin grabbed Bilbo and pulled him in with the rest of the Company. Soon the deep trumpets of Dáin were heard, the dwarves rallying around the others. They had only a few precious minutes to arrange themselves before the enemy came upon them. Thus began the Battle of the Five Armies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear not, no one dies.


	16. The Battling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of the Five Armies ends up better this time around.

During the Battle of the Five Armies, Bilbo did his best to stay out of everyone's way. Fortunately, since the last fight, Dwalin had insisted that he and the others carry their weapons at all times, even inside the mountain, so Bilbo had Sting with him. The sword shone brightly blue though it trembled in his hand.

When Gandalf's cry came down to them all, the leaders assembled their troops before the enemy was upon them, but they only had minutes to spare. As Thorin shouted for Dáin and his dwarves to come to him, Dwalin put Bilbo beside the main gate behind a low wall that offered some protection. The Company gathered in front of Bilbo, and soon other dwarves joined them, though there were elves and men mixed in with them as well.

Then the rush of goblins, orcs, and wargs came rushing down the hillside, and in a flash the battle had begun. It was hectic chaos. Dwalin wanted to stay by Bilbo's side, but his deadly whirlwind style of fighting would have endangered his hobbit. Plus Dwalin had to protect his king, so he trusted Bilbo's safety to others who loved him almost as much as he did.

All the frustration and hurt that the dwarves, especially Thorin, had felt over the last week only added to their fighting prowess. There were few things in Middle-earth more deadly in mêlée than an angry dwarf.

Bilbo tried to stay back as best he could, knowing everyone would be safest if he stayed out of the way. However, Bilbo soon found himself alone. Fíli and Kíli left to protect their uncle and Nori had gone off to rescue Bard and group of men who found themselves overwhelmed, so Dori and Ori had gone to protect him. Battle-rage was upon Bifur and Bofur and Bombur followed him to make certain that he only harmed the enemy. Óin, Glóin, and Balin tried to stay by Bilbo, but when the hobbit saw wounded lying unattended on the ground, he begged them to carry them into the mountain.

When Bilbo found himself alone, he slipped on his magic ring, and while still terrified, felt hidden and slightly protected. On light feet, he slipped between the fighters, stabbing with Sting when the opportunity presented itself.

Somehow, Bilbo found himself halfway down the mountain slope and next to the elf-king. The king may have seemed almost delicate and lackadaisical in his kingdom, but on the battlefield a more elegant warrior could hardly be imagined. The king fought untiringly with twin swords almost dancing across the battlefield. Thranduil was so blindingly fast that his guard had trouble staying by him.

Yet no matter how deadly the dwarves battled, how furiously the elves fought, nor how desperately the men struggled, they were slowly becoming overwhelmed by the sheer mass and hatred of the enemy.

Blood trickling down his face from a cut he'd received when a goblin had accidentally elbowed him, Bilbo stopped, standing still and stared at the destruction all around him. Tears rolled down his exhausted face, and he looked up wishing for at least the sun to warm and comfort him.

It was then he saw them - dark shapes coming in low on the horizon. His heart leap in his chest when he recognized them, and he shouted, "The Eagles! The Eagles!" Though no one could see him, those nearby could hear his voice and looked up in wonder. For the eagles had come, and so had Beorn in his great bear form, smashing aside dozens of orcs with his huge paws

The eagles flew in low, either clawing at the wargs or snatching up clawfuls of goblins and dropping them from great heights. Bilbo watched in amazement as the tide of the battle was turned; seeing their accomplices dropping from above them shocked the goblins and orcs into confusion.

The Lord of the Eagles flew to Thorin and screeched out a greeting, but as he landed on a fallen tree a foolishly brave orc leapt upon the eagle's great back, digging his claws into the feather-covered back. With a roar, Dwalin leaped and slashed the orc off the eagle's back. In an instant the Lord of the Eagles was back in the air, a startled and grateful look in his golden eyes.

Bilbo was so distracted by the sight the he did not notice a goblin hurling stones at an elf behind him. When one hurtled into his head, Bilbo collapsed and knew no more.

When Bilbo awoke, it was dusk and he was all alone. Head aching, he struggled to sit up. Obviously, the battle was over for the field had been cleared, but he had been forgotten.

Oh! The blasted ring! He yanked it off his finger and slipped into his pocket, but the swift action caused his head to spin. Groaning, he tried to stand, but his weary feet collapsed out from under him. He called out instead, "Hello? Is anyone there?"

A voice came toward him, "Who's there?"

"It's me, Bilbo Baggins, companion of Thorin!"

"Bilbo! Thank Mahal," said Balin rushing over to him. "Dwalin has been distraught. We feared the worst when no one could find you."

"It's my fault," explained Bilbo. "I had my magic ring on and got knocked in the head. I've only just awoken."

"Come on then, Bilbo," Balin said, lifting the hobbit to his feet. "Can you walk?"

"You'd better take some of my weight," Bilbo replied. "How is the Company?"

Balin put his arm under Bilbo's shoulders and headed toward the gate. "Wounded all of them, except Kíli, the scamp, but no one is too grievously hurt. Óin's been having a grand time showing off his healing skills to the elves. Everyone else is just thankful the battle is over."

"Everyone else?"

"The elf-king and elf-prince are alive to everyone's mild displeasure. Bard is well; I swear, he and Thorin saved each other's lives a half-dozen times each so their battle bond will keep them friends for a very long time. The Lord of the Eagles has sworn a great debt to my daft brother."

"Oh, I saw that," Bilbo exclaimed. "Dwalin was so brave."

"Make sure you tell him that. Ah, and here he is." Balin exclaimed, "I found your hobbit, brother. Now don't crush him!"

“Bilbo,” sighed Dwalin, closing his eyes in quick prayer of thanksgiving. “Are you well?”

Balin answered, “He got a nasty knock on the head, but he’s all right. He needs rest and to not be rough-handled by you. I don’t think his skull could take it. Where’s Óin set up the beds?”

Dwalin led the way and stayed close by Bilbo as Óin looked him over. “Bilbo’s head will likely ache for several days, but other than that’s he’s fine,” Óin diagnosed. “That elf-healer over there has some tea that should relieve the pain. Then get some sleep.”

However, Bilbo was unable to get more than a few minutes of rest before Ori came running over, arm in a sling. “Thorin wants to see you.”

Dwalin muttered something about how if Thorin wanted to see him, he could march himself right on over, but Bilbo patted his shoulder. “It’s all right. I’d like to make sure that he’s well and isn’t causing any trouble.”

Thorin greeted Bilbo warmly, much relieved that the hobbit was well. Thranduil was standing nearby for once not looking spotless. “I am glad you have been found, Master Baggins. None of your companions would discuss further arrangements until you had been found.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” said Bilbo, deciding to spare his head and not bow. He shuffled his feet, searching for something else to say. “I saw you fight. You did very well, um, with your swords.” The elf-king smiled serenely and said nothing. “Unless there’s something else, I’d better go now and leave you to your important work.”

“There is something else, Bilbo,” said Thorin with a sharp glance at Thranduil, “that we need from you.”

“Of course.”

“Not now, but after you have slept, I would like to act as an advisor between the elf-king and me.” The “since neither of can stand each other” was implied. “Gandalf will be helping as well, but he will leaving again soon."

“I would be most honored,” said Bilbo shyly. “I will help in any way that I can.”

“Excellent, my friend. Go and get some rest. We will fetch you when you are needed.”

Over the next few days, Bilbo worked hard enough to forget his pain keeping the peace between the three races. Wounded needed to be tended, hungry needed to be fed, and homeless needed to be sheltered. Plus there was the gold that everyone seemed to want more than they ought, but when the Arkenstone was finally found, quite by accident, some of that tension was relieved. Despite all of the busyness, Bilbo’s heart was light – the dragon was dead, the other enemies scattered, and his friends were well.

Once things were safe, the elves withdrew to Mirkwood. A few elves skilled in carpentry stayed behind, but to Kíli’s disappointment, Tauriel was not one of them. Shelters were built in Dale and stone-mining would begin in the spring to help repair the rest of the city. Though Bilbo enjoyed all his new friends, he was happy when the rest of the dwarves moved into Dale and it was just the Company residing in the mountain once again. When the first snow fell and travel became difficult, Bilbo finally felt like he could put his feet up and rest.


	17. The Pining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves miss their sweethearts, and Bilbo asks Dwalin to help. So Dwalin helps, just not in a very good way.

It was two and a half weeks after the first snow feel on the mountain when Bilbo noticed odd behavior from his dwarves. While the men and other dwarves were wintering in Dale, the Company was snug in the few rooms that had been cleared out in Erebor. They kept busy, cleaning and working, but Bilbo was starting to notice an undercurrent of sadness in their work, when there should have been only joy at their good fortune.

Finally, when Bilbo caught Dori staring morosely into his cold-by-now tea, he realized that he had to say something. So he sat beside the dwarf and poured himself a cup of tea. “You do make the most delicious tea, Dori.”

Dori started and looked up. “Not to me,” he muttered. “It just doesn’t taste right anymore. Nothing does. In fact, I might leave Erebor.”

“Dori!” Bilbo exclaimed in shock.

“I don’t know if I can spend an entire winter here.”

“What would your brothers do without you? We’d all miss you so.”

Shrugging, Dori said, “Nori was always the one to go off and have adventures. They’ll be fine without me for a while. There’s plenty here to fix up Erebor without me.”

Bilbo didn’t know what else to say, so he just sat by his friend’s side for a while longer. Later he came across Bofur and Kíli who were sitting around lethargically when they should have been clearing rubble.

“What’s wrong with you too?” Bilbo asked.

“Nothing,” said Bofur, just as Kíli said, “I miss Tauriel.”

Then Kíli ducked his head and said, “Nothing. It’s just a bit dull here after all the excitement.”

“Well, Roäc flew over this morning, bringing Thorin some news. I don’t know what it was, but he looked excited – well, excited for Thorin. Why don’t you go see what it was?”

Kíli nodded ran off, but Bofur remained sitting. “Are you missing someone too?” Bilbo asked softly, guessing at his friend’s problem.

Bofur shrugged. “It doesn’t make much difference if I am. They’d never notice me, let alone want me.”

“Now, Bofur, that’s just a silly thing to say. You’re a wonderful dwarf and anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Bofur gave a cold laugh that made Bilbo’s heart drop. “Don’t worry about me, Bilbo. I’ll be all right.” He rose and got back to work removing boulders and would talk to Bilbo no more.

Bilbo headed to find Thorin, passing more glum dwarves along the way. “What has gotten in to all of them?” he muttered. When he reached Thorin, he saw Kíli and Fíli talking excitedly by him.

When they saw Bilbo, the dwarf princes ran over and Kíli shouted, “Mum’s coming tomorrow! Roäc spotted her and she sent him ahead to let us know! She’s bringing our little cousin Gimli, Glóin’s son, you know? She wanted to surprise us by coming before the rest of the dwarves from Ered Luin.”

“That’s wonderful news,” exclaimed Bilbo. “Just what you all needed – a bit of change to get your minds off of—” he stopped there when Kíli’s face fell. “Well, to get you feeling better.”

The mood of the Company changed from gloomy to cheery once the news spread that Lady Dís, Gimli, and their retinue were to arrive the next day. Glóin was beside himself with excitement as was Oin to see his nephew again.

Bilbo and Thorin prepared rooms for Dís, not that Thorin was much help. He was too focused on showing off to his sister that he kept forgetting important things like sheets or a wash basin. “Besides,” Throin explained, “my sister may wish to stay in Dale. The mountain may be too lonely for her.”

“I don’t know your sister,” Bilbo replied, “but I have a feeling that she will not want to be separated from you or her sons anytime in the near future.

Food had been delivered and put into storage for the winter, so it was easy enough for Bombur to begin preparing a feast for their guests.

By happy chance, the group arrived early the next morning. Bilbo squeezed Dwalin’s hand in happiness as the families rushed and threw themselves at each other. “I would like to see a child leaping at you like that someday,” Dwalin whispered in Bilbo’s ear, who blushed in return.

Introductions were being made and soon Fíli and Kíli dragged their mother over to Bilbo and Dwalin. “Mother this is Mr. Bilbo Baggins; he’s our burglar.”

Dís raised an eyebrow and bowed, which Bilbo hastily returned with a polite “at your service.”

“Hello, Dwalin,” Dís said, kissing the taller man on the cheek. “You look less gruff than usually.”

“Probably ‘cause he’s married, Mum,” said Kíli.

“Dwalin? Married?” Dís gave a great, booming laugh. Clearly she was a different creature from her brother. “To whom?”

“To me, Ma’am,” said Bilbo with another bow. The Lady Dís said nothing, but considered Bilbo, looking him up and down.

Feeling the tension, Kíli jumped in, “He’s all right, Mum.”

“He and Dwalin take good care of each other,” explained Fíli.

“They’re quite gross,” said Kíli, sticking his tongue out.

“Kíli!” said Dís.

“Mind your manners, boy,” said Dwalin, grabbing Kíli around the neck and ruffling his hair. “I’ll not have you impugning my husband’s honor – he’s a most sensitive fellow.”

Dís said, “Well then, I suppose I must welcome you to the family, Master Baggins, since my sons seem so fond of you, and you’ve managed to put up with their antics these long months.”

Bilbo smiled, “They’re good boys, Ma’am. They have very big hearts. Now, if you’d like to come inside, Bombur has supper ready and there’s a fire blazing to dry the snow off you.”

“Thank you.”

The group walked inside while Gimli was introduced to Bilbo along the way.

“This is Bilbo Baggins, my son,” said Gloin, “Bilbo, this is my shining star, Gimli.”

“I’m so pleased to meet you,” Bilbo told the red-haired dwarf. “Your father has told me so much about you.”

“I’m sure he has,” Gimli replied. “Don’t believe all of it. I’ve never met a hobbit before.”

“Well, if you have any questions, ask away. Everyone is so curious about me in this corner of the world; I feel most exotic.”

Kíli said, “Oh, you’ll get to know Bilbo soon enough, Gimli. You’ve got to hear about our adventures first! We met all sorts of amazing things. Then you’ll tell us about yours. I can’t believe you’ve grown so much!”

Fíli spoke up, “I bet if you were this tall when we left, Uncle would have certainly let you come.”

Chest puffed out proudly, Gimli said, “Mother still probably would have said no then, but when Lady Dís asked for me specially to accompany her, she had to say yes. Besides, it would have taken months longer if we stayed with the rest of the dwarves. They travel so slowly. I’m glad to be here now!”

The young dwarves chattered with one another as they all sat down to eat.

A lightness had come upon the Company once again, but it didn’t last long.

Dís and Gimli settled in well, while their escort stayed with Dáin’s group in Dale. Lady Dís was a marvel at organizing the dwarves into clearing out rooms, bagging up the gold, and fixing anything broken. They all kept busy, but for many of the dwarves they still felt lonely, having given away their heart to someone along the way.

Bilbo had hoped thing were getting better, but he decided to speak to Dwalin before Dori or any of the others did anything drastic. “Dwalin, I’m worried about the others,” he said that night as they were getting ready for bed.

“What for?”

“The other day Dori said he might leave. He said he’s bored and can’t spend all winter in the mountain, but I know it’s not that. He’s grieving for his sweetheart; they’re all grieving for their sweethearts.”

Dwalin scratched his beard. “Who are they grieving for?”

“Oh, I don’t even know. Kíli misses Tauriel, of course, but I’m not sure about the others.”

“You’re telling me they’ve all fallen in love with someone?”

“I think so,” Bilbo said, pulling on his nightshirt. “The signs are all there – moping, sighing, daydreaming, and so on.”

“I don’t see how they could have fallen for anyone. We haven’t stayed long enough in one place for them to fall in love. How’d they go and manage do that?”

“It only takes an instant if it’s the right one,” Bilbo said, kissing Dwalin on the cheek.

“But didn’t we say that wasn’t the normal way to do things?” Dwalin said, getting into bed and pulling Bilbo down beside him.

“Yes, but I don’t think we’ve been a good example, getting their hopes up and all.”

“Has it happened to all of them?”

“I’m not sure. Unless there’s some strange dwarven mourning custom once adventure is over that I don’t know about, most of them are pining.” Bilbo sighed as he snuggled closer to Dwalin’s side. “I had such dreams living close to one another in the mountain. I’d hate for any of them to go off and leave us. If Dori goes, his brothers will go, then another and another.”

Dwalin hugged Bilbo tightly. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to them in the morning. See if I can’t help.”

“Thank you, dear.”

After breakfast the next morning, Dwalin found the rest of the dwarves gathered in the throne room. He had asked Bilbo to distract Dís so that they could have some time with them alone. They were all sitting around glumly, hardly moving – that was what Bilbo had been talking about.

“If you could just get a look at yourselves,” Dwalin said, shaking his head. “You look like a bunch of lovesick bull calves.” The others looked up at him, shifting uncomfortably. He went on, “If you’re so sweet on someone, why don’t you do something about it? Why don’t you go marry ‘em?”

Ori said glumly, “Oh, sure, just go marry them, just like that.”

“There’s no chance we’d get to marry them,” said Bofur, “not in a thousand years.”

Dwalin tried to think of a solution. “Remember Bilbo’s mother’s book – the one about the history of hobbits? Well, why don’t you do like those Tooks did with the ‘nappings. Those Tooks had the tradition of finding a hobbit they liked and carrying them off. We’re practically kin with Bilbo, so I’d say that makes us just a bit hobbit. If you can do as much as a bunch of hobbits, we’ll you’re no real dwarves. Of course, you’d have to capture someone to marry you all with them.” The dwarves looked interested, but not convinced.

“Isn’t Bilbo half a Took?” asked Fíli.

“Yes, but this was in olden days. I read about it in Bilbo’s book.”

Fíli rolled his eyes, “Oh, a book.” Ori glared.

Dwalin explained, “This is history; this really happened. Those Tooks and some of the other families would see a pretty lass or lad and go snatch them up. They’d keep them captive for as long as it took for them to fall in love, unless they ran off or their parents rescued them or they were so miserable they were released.”

“How often did that happen?” Ori asked.

“Well, it seems they didn’t mind being caught so much and usually stayed,” said Dwalin.

“How would we do it though,” Dori asked. “They’re miles and miles away and winter is upon us.”

Dwalin thought for a moment then said, “I know an eagle who owes me a favor, and flying would hardly take any time at all.”

“How would we stop them from escaping?” Bofur asked. “I mean, it may take some time to convince them to stay with us.”

Nori grinned, “There’s a lot of snow perched right above our gates. No one’s had time to clear it off. With just the right force, I think it could be persuaded to fall and cover the only entrance for months.”

“We have plenty of food,” Fíli said.

“That would keep everyone else out too,” said Kíli.

It all seemed great to Dwalin, “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go get them! Kíli, go find Roäc and tell him to fetch the eagles. Everyone else, grab rope and blankets. Let’s go!”

With that, Dwalin, Fíli, Kíli, Bofur, Bifur, Ori, Nori, Dori, and Gimli (who hadn’t fall in love with anyone, but wasn’t about to be left behind) were off, running through the mountain to fetch their soon-to-be-true-loves. At least, that is what they hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do we solve plot problems, Mr. Tolkien? That's right, with eagles.
> 
> [Also, I'll be starting teaching school this Thursday, so the posting of chapters will likely slow down. But I've having such fun writing this, that I'll definitely be pressing on when I've got the time.]


	18. The Kidnapping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much mischief ensues as the dwarves kidnap their sweethearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good gravy, I've been busy with teaching and doctor's visits, but I've trying to work on this a little bit each night. I didn't want to chop this chapter into bits, so it's nice and long and took me forever. Thanks for your patience and thank you so much for you're kind words of encouragement!

“Where is everyone?” Bilbo asked, sitting down next to Glóin for their biweekly state-of-the-mountain meeting.

“I don’t know,” answered Glóin, organizing his notes. “I suspect the lads have sneaked off again.”

“Yes, but almost everyone is gone. That’s unusual,” commented Bilbo as Thorin came in.

“Where is everyone?” asked Thorin, looking at the few that had assembled – Bilbo, Glóin, Óin, Balin, Bombur, and Dís.

“We were just wondering that ourselves,” Balin answered. “I suppose it’s to be expected. Some of the others like to skip once in a while, so perhaps they’ve just all neglected to come on the same day.” 

Thorin and Dís both gave a very similar annoyed huff, but refused to look at each other afterward.

“We might as well cancel,” said Óin hopefully.

“No, we’ll go on with what we have,” Thorin replied. Óin sighed. Worried, Bilbo frowned; it had been several hours since he’d seen Dwalin, and it wasn’t like his husband to vanish.

* * *

Several hours earlier.

“All right, listen up!” shouted Dwalin above the din of the dwarves and eagles. “Figure out where you’re going and find the eagle who’ll take you there. That big one’ll take you to the Shire, that one to Rivendell, the small one is going to Mirkwood. No one want’s to go to Beorn’s, right?” The dwarves shuddered as they milled about.

“What about Dale?” asked Nori.

Dwalin glared at him. “If you’re just going down the mountain, you can walk.”

“Sure, I can walk there, but I doubt even you could carry a full-grown man back up.”

“I will take him,” said the Lord of the Eagles inclining his noble head. “We will leave later on so that we return at a similar time as the others.”

“My thanks,” said Nori.

It was chaotic as the dwarves tried figure out which eagle was going where, how to climb up upon them when they found the right fellow, and how to hold on and carry their blankets and ropes with as well.

“Master Dwalin,” said Gimli tugging on Dwalin’s sleeve as he headed toward the Mirkwood eagle.

“Yes, Gimli lad?”

“I’m not sure where to go.”

“Now hold a minute, lad. Are you even certain that you want to be go getting someone – have you even met anyone that you like?”

“No, but I don’t want to be left behind again!”

“All right, all right,” said Dwalin with a laugh. “Was there anyone in Ered Luin that you fancied?” The young dwarf shook his head empathetically no. “Do you fancy a sweet hobbit then to keep you company?”

Gimli’s brow furrowed and he said, “I want someone noble or someone important that’ll make others look up to me.”

Dwalin nodded. “I’ve got just the right person in mind for you, lad. You’ll be coming with me.” He looked around at the others who were in various stages of disarray. “Come on, you lot! Bofur, easy with that eagle’s feathers. Kíli, you’re not riding a pony – she doesn’t need a bridle. Dori, are you coming or not?” Finally, everyone scrambled into place. Fortunately, the eagles looked more amused than offended. “Hold on tight and be gentle with your sweethearts. Here we go!”

With a gentle whoosh, the eagles flapped their wings and lifted into the air, picking up speed as they began their glide down the mountain.

Dwalin put a steadying hand on Kíli’s shoulder to stop the young dwarf from bouncing up and down on the eagle’s back. “Don’t let me see you kicking this eagle, Kíli.”

Kíli only turned and gave him a huge grin. “Do you think Tauriel will be excited to see me?”

“I hope so lad; otherwise, this will be an awkward winter for the pair of you.”

“Fear not, Dwalin; no woman can resist my charms for that long.”

Dwalin ignored him and turned his head to look at Gimli. “You all right back there, lad?”

“Of course I am; only, I was wondering why you’re coming. I like Master Bilbo, and I don’t think he’ll take kindly to sharing you.”

Dwalin laughed heartily. “I hadn’t even thought that this might look odd. No, I’m going for Thorin. Stubborn fool would never even admit who he loves, let alone do anything about it. I don’t mind being the deliverer. I don’t think they’re both stubborn enough to be trapped together the whole winter without acting on their feelings for one another. Besides, Bilbo will help; he’s the one who noticed it.”

Kíli laughed. “Uncle Thorin in love?”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

“Please. What Tauriel and I have is transcendent. If she asked me to, I would follow her to the ends of the earth.”

“Stop using words that you don’t understand,” Dwalin said. “That’s Mirkwood up ahead, and then we’ll be almost there, so get ready.”

If eagles could smile, this one would certainly be doing so as she alit on a large pine on the edge of clearing in front of the elf-king’s home. “Everything would be much easier if we had Bilbo’s magic ring,” Dwalin muttered after they climbed down the tree. “I don’t know how we’re going to sneak in and then sneak the elves out. I doubt they’ll fit into barrels.”

Above them, the eagle made a chattering sound and looked pointedly in a direction away from the entrance. “There she is,” Kíli half-whispered pointed to Tauriel and a group of elves who were walking out of the woods, returning from a spider hunt before it was completely dark. “Perfect! I’ll make a commotion in the woods. When the guards come to investigate, I’ll disable them until Tauriel comes. You two can grab the others in the commotion.”

Dwalin smiled as Kíli ran off in the underbrush. Sometimes that boy defied expectations and showed that he had some brains. “Come on, Gimli. We’ll hide over here.” As they waited for Kíli, they whispered quietly to each other. “See the tall blond – that’s the elf-king Thranduil. He’s the one that Thorin likes… and also hates. I’ll grab him. The blond next to him is his son. Though he’s an elf, I don’t think you can get more regal than a prince.”

Gimli frowned, but nodded determinedly. “They don’t look too tough; it should be easy enough to grab them.”

“Don’t be fooled; they’re stronger than they look. Plus they’re incredibly old, so they’ve learned a lot. We just have to surprise them.” When the group drew closer, they fell silent, knowing that elf ears would hear them if they weren’t absolutely silent.

Finally, Kíli’s distraction came. I sounded vaguely like the meow of a cat. Gimli hid his face in his hands, but Dwalin kept a sharp eye on the elves, who stopped and stared in the dwarf’s direction. Kíli meowed again.

“What is that?” asked Legolas, looking concerned and slightly disturbed.

“It sounds like a cat,” said Tauriel as the meowing continued.

“Go see what it is,” commanded Thranduil to one of his guards.

The elf headed into the woods. There was a slight scuffle, and the meowing continued. Two more hurried to investigate. They didn’t return and the meowing intensified in volume, rate, and ghastliness.

“I think that cat is sick,” Tauriel said. “Let me find out what is going on before anyone else gets hurt.” She strode off into the woods. The scuffle was louder this time. Tauriel had a chance to yell for help before she was silent. After that, most of the guards ran after her.

Dwalin and Gimli used the confusion to barrel into the other guards, throw the blankets over the startled king and prince, and wrap the rope securely around them. In shock the father and son didn’t do much as Dwalin and Gimli dragged them toward the eagle.

“I think you’ve got mine,” Dwalin said, shoving the bundled-up prince toward Gimli. They switched quickly before hefting them across their shoulders. That was apparently enough for the royal elves, who began writhing and twisting to get away. Unfortunately for them, the eagle flew down to meet them. She grasped the bundles carefully in her talons as the dwarves climbed on her back.

“Where’s Kíli?” Dwalin shouted. “I don’t think the guards will be out for long.”

Kíli soon turned up, dragging Tauriel through the woods. She wasn’t wrapped in a blanket, but was following Kíli along willingly, if confusedly. “I’ve got her!” Kíli shouted.

“Hush, boy! Get her over here! Why isn’t she tied up?”

Hearing Dwalin’s shouts and seeing the bundles in the eagle’s claws, Tauriel’s eyes widened in realization, and she began to struggle to Kíli’s dismay. Dwalin leaped down and helped the younger dwarf wrap her up. As furious as she was, it didn’t take them long, and soon they were in the air, flying toward the Lonely Mountain. When their cargo realized they were no longer on the ground, they ceased their struggles.

* * *

Bofur and his eagle kept up a steady stream of conversation on their journey to Rivendell, entertaining one another with humorous and adventurous tales. The eagle flew swiftly, using wind currents to speed their way, but their journey was long.

Wheeling overhead, Bofur was able observe Rivendell until he stopped his elf.

“Lindir is the brunet in the dark violet robes. He’s a truly wonderful fellow – patient, kind, generous, wise—” Bofur was cut off as the eagle dove toward the elf, who was walking across a delicate bridge. The eagle landed in a tree next to a nearby roof. Carefully, Bofur climbed down.

By the time Bofur reached the bottom, Lindir was inside. Being as quiet as he could, Bofur sneaked up to the elf’s window and peered in. He knew being an eavesdropper wasn’t polite, but it really was necessary. He watched the elf move about his room until Lindir’s slender fingers went to his throat, and he began unbuttoning his robes.

Bofur averted his eyes and unthinkingly cleared his throat in warning, but ducked quickly beneath the window frame before Lindir spotted him. He heard footsteps approaching and realized Lindir was coming to the window. He grabbed his blanket in his hands and got ready.

As soon as Lindir’s head appeared, Bofur jumped up. Ignoring Lindir’s startled face, Bofur threw the blanket over his head and wrapped his strong arms around his shoulders and pulled the elf through the window. Hands working quickly, he looped the rope several times around the elf, apologizing profusely, though it was doubtful the elf heard him over his angry shouts.

Within moments Bofur was rushing back across the bridge to his ride. The eagle was ready for him, which was fortunate for the shouting of angry elves was right behind them.

The eagle circled over Rivendell four times, rising higher and higher, Bofur waving merrily at all the elves below, who didn’t dare loose their arrows at the giant bird of prey. Once he made sure Lindir was snug in front of him, they were off.

* * *

Nori was the last to leave the mountain and the first to return.

It was almost dusk when the Lord of the Eagles flew him down to Dale. The eagle left him in front of Bard’s house, which was the remains of a stone building with new timber supporting its structure. Nori strode to the door and gave it a firm knock.

Bard’s son Bain answered it, grinning when he saw Nori.

Nori’s heart dropped – how could he take father from son? He squared his shoulders. A change of plan was in order; he’d just have to take both.

“Good evening, Bain,” said Nori with a low bow.

“Hello, Master Nori!” said the boy, ignoring the bow and throwing his arms around Nori. “I’m so glad you’ve come to visit. Father said we might have to wait until spring before you could come again. Please come in.”

Nori followed Bain into their house. Bard got up from his chair by the fire and came over, a slight smile lighting his stern face. “Welcome, Master Nori.”

“At your service.” Nori looked around their small home. Though he had never worked as a stonemason, even he could improve the dilapidated structure. Clearly, Bard had been instructing the other dwarves to work elsewhere. “I admit, this is not purely a social call,” Nori explained, “though it always good to see you again.”

“What can I do for you, Master Nori?”

“Call me, Nori for starters,” said Nori with a wink. “For the leader of Dale, you surely don’t live like it.” Bard frowned at him, and Nori hurried to explain. “I mean no offence. It is obvious that you’ve been putting your people before yourself, a trait I admire in you.” Bard nodded and returned to his seat by the fire.

Nori sat next to him and continued, “I have come to offer you a place in the mountain – just for the winter – for your protection and so that you can learn the ways of dwarves.”

Bard said, “I cannot leave my people during the winter.”

“Surely you can. Work has ceased, there is plenty of food stored up, what else can there be for you to do?”

“Plenty, I assure you.”

“Take a walk with me – you and Bard. Visit the mountain. You’ll see how close we truly are, and maybe you’ll change your mind.” It took a bit more convincing, mostly from Bain, who longed to see the mountain, but eventually Bard agreed to spend the night there.

Nori smiled to himself as they began their hike. He was the only one who spotted the shadow of the Lord of the Eagles soar silently overhead. Sweet words always worked better than violence.

* * *

Dori and Bifur’s journey was the longest. Unable to communicate much with each other, they slept as much as they could, their eagle keeping his flight steady and smooth.

When they landed in the Shire, Dori told Bifur, “Make sure you meet me right back here in ten minutes. Do you know where you’re going?”

Bifur nodded and gestured something complicated. Not comprehending, Dori just nodded and patted his friend on the back.

Dori headed down the path through the rolling Shire hills. There were many hobbits out and about in the warm mid-morning. He bowed and smiled courteously at each one he met, and most responded in kind, though many stared with wide eyes. He wondered if they remember the Company from before when they took Bilbo. What a scandal that must have been! Dori quite agreed that marrying someone you just met was almost uncivilized. Of course kidnapping was probably worse, but Dwalin had promised him that it was an old hobbit tradition. Desperate times.

It took him awhile to find the Bracegirdle house, but Dori was soon hiding behind a tree in their front yard. And there, standing at the door next to a rotund hobbit, was his lovely Lobelia. She was dressed all in rose and lavender. The male hobbit was holding her hands and leaning toward her.

Lobelia’s strong voice carried across the yard. “It isn’t proper, Otho!”

“Please, Lobelia-love!” begged the hobbit. Dori bristled.

“Well, all right. Just one little kiss,” Lobelia said, closing her eyes and leaning forward.

That was enough. Dori hurried forward, knocked the hobbit smartly on the head. The hobbit collapsed, unconscious but not seriously injured. Dori gently put his hands on Lobelia’s shoulders and pulled her forward, kissing her sweetly on the lips. It was no little kiss.

Lobelia pulled back with a gasp and stared in wonder at Dori. “You’re a dwarf!” she exclaimed.

“Dori, at your service, ma’am,” Dori said, throwing a blanket over her head and her of his shoulder. Immediately, Lobelia started kicking and screeching. Dori raced back to the eagle, admiring the strength of her lungs and legs. Soon there was a trail of angry or excited but definitely confused hobbits chasing after him as he kidnapped his future bride.

A few hills over, Bell Gamgee listened to the sound of the pursuit as she placed a fresh berry pie to cool on her windowsill. “Do you hear that, Hamfast? Something’s going on out there. I haven’t heard such an uproar since I can’t remember when.”

Hamfast got up to look; outside several hobbits ran by in various directions. “I don’t know, dear. Would you like me to check it out?”

Bell was about to ask him to when she noticed that her pie was missing. “Oh! Those Took rascals! Hamfast, my pie is gone!”

That was most terrible news. Hamfast leaned out the window to see if he could spot the culprit. Sitting on the ground below, calmly chewing pie, was Bifur. “Bifur! What on earth are you doing here? Have you come to visit?”

Bifur gently placed the now empty pie dish down, rose, bowed low, and grabbed Hamfast and dragged him out the window. Bell shrieked, and Hamfast struggled, but Bifur was soon gone, carrying a confused Hamfast with him.

Bell raced after them, but they were long gone. “Those dwarves took my Hamfast!” she cried running up to the aimless hobbit mob.

“They took Lobelia too!” cried Otho. “Seven of them jumped me.” 

“What do we do?” Drogo Baggins asked.

“We go after them and get them back,” said Bell, a stern look in her eyes. “Who’ll come with me?”

“I’m going for sure,” said Drogo. “I always suspected something was up when Cousin Bilbo left. He may need help too.”

“You’re not going without me,” said his wife Primula. Brother and sister Paladin and Esmeralda Took said that they would go as well.

Within the hour five determined hobbits were setting off from the Shire to the Lonely Mountain. At the same time elves from Rivendell and Mirkwood were heading to the dwarven kingdom as well.

* * *

Quite a few hours earlier

“Fíli, aren’t you going?” asked Ori after the dust cleared and the eagles had flown.

Fíli shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s no one out that my heart is broken over.”

“Oh,” Ori said, looking down. “I hope you don’t mind this too much. If you do, just tell me, and I’ll stop…” he trailed off before squaring his shoulders and looping his rope around Fíli’s wrists. “I’m kidnapping you, if that’s all right?”

Fíli laughed. “Well, that was unexpected.” He thought carefully for a minute before responding, “No, I don’t think I mind, Ori. We’re good friends, after all.” Ori blushed and smiled. “This is much easier on me, too. With Kíli and Uncle being lovesick idiots, I was afraid the burden of making a politically advantageous match would fall to me. But if we’re together, there’s not much anyone can do about it, is there?”

Ori smiled. “I’ve liked you for a long time,” he confessed.

“Well,” Fíli said, unlooping the rope, “we’ll just have to sort out our feelings and all that for each other. But we’ll be much better behaved than our muttonheaded families.”

Altogether pleased with one another, the pair headed back into the mountain. They decided it would be best to avoid the others and their questions until the eagles and dwarves returned with their captives.

And if later that night, Bilbo on his search for Dwalin, happened to stumble upon them nuzzling in a darkened corner, he only smiled knowingly to himself and said nothing.


	19. The Scolding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves return with their prizes. The prizes are most unhappy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thousand apologies for the delay. Life is amazingly busy.

Despite the varying distances traveled by the dwarven kidnappers, they all arrived back at Erebor at approximately the same time. In great chaos, the dwarves bundled their captives in through the gates, keeping them corralled together as much as possible. After expressing their gratitude, the dwarves shut the heavy dwarven doors behind the eagles.

After the great birds of prey departed, the Lord of the Eagles led the others to the top of the Lonely Mountain. There, they used their talons and weight to lose the snow and send it downward. Quickly, the tumbling snow gathered speed and volume, creating an avalanche that completely blocked the entrance to the mountain.

Hearing the damp thud of the snow, the dwarves cheered inside, knowing that there would be no escape until spring when the snow melted.

“You’re a lot of damn fools,” said Bard, striding with Bain toward the group. He turned and glared at Nori, “Well, how long until it melts?”

The tips of Nori’s ears were red with embarrassment, but his voice was steady as he replied, “An avalanche hasn’t happened in years, but the door will be blocked until spring – even close to summer, since there’s been such a buildup of snow over the last few years.”

The dwarves grinned at his pronouncement, but the glee soon faded from their faces when Lobelia opened her mouth wide and began to wail. Dori tried to console her, but she swiftly kicked him several times in the shins, wailing all the while. All of the others moved away except Hamfast, who put his arms around her, despite the ear-obliterating volume her wailing had reached.

The rest of the victims clustered together away from the dwarves, eyes darting everywhere, searching in vain for a way out. The dwarves scratched their beards, trying to come up with a hobbit-comforting solution. They certainly hadn’t expected this.

Suddenly, Ori shouted above the din, “We forgot Gandalf!” Astoundingly, Lobelia’s wailing increased.

Finally, the elf-king approached the hobbit lass with a pained look on his normally serene face. He leaned over and commanded, “Stop this at once, Halfling.”

Lobelia aimed a series of rapid kicks at Thranduil’s shins, but he backed swiftly away before she could reach him. “You stop!” she screeched. “You kidnapped me! I hate you!” She turned a baleful eye at Dori, “I hate you all!” Wailing over for the moment, she sat down on the ground and sobbed loudly into her dress.

No one knew what to do, but it was at this time that Bilbo, Thorin, Dís, Balin, Bombur, Óin, and Glóin with Fíli and Ori following sheepishly behind arrived in entrance hall. “What is going on?” shouted Thorin, but Bilbo pushed past him and wrapped his arms around Lobelia.

“There, there, dear. We’ll get this all sorted out. You’re safe with me,” he said softly before turning accusing eyes on Dwalin. “What is going on?” he said, his tone short and clipped.

Dwalin tried to shrug, but couldn’t quite get the casual motion right. “It’s all right, really. I know how worried you were with the dwarves pining for their Ones, so we brought them all here, so we could care for them and show them how worthy they all are.”

“Who did you bring?” Bilbo’s voice was deceptively soft.

Dwalin’s face paled, “Now, Bilbo, don’t go thinking anything like that. I didn’t bring anyone for myself. I just brought the elf that Thorin’s so hung up like _you_ said. The others brought their own.”

“You talked them into it?”

“Maybe – yes, I did.”

Just then Dís sprang toward the guilty group of dwarves and started smacking everyone she could reach, concentrating mainly on her son and Dwalin, but sparing no one. Other than a few startled yelps, no one said anything, until Dís suddenly stopped, breathing heavily.

Her face was so red, that Óin immediately came over to check on her. “I need to go lay down,” she said regally. Óin took her arm and led her out of the room, only stopping once when she had to turn around and scream every insult in every language that she knew at the dwarves. Finally, Dís and Óin made it out of the hall.

Thorin strode forward. He now had to be the calm one, since his sister got to have the temper tantrum. “Explain yourself, Dwalin, since you appear to be the ringleader.”

“Now, hold on, just a minute,” Dwalin protested. “I made have done some encouraging, but it was really Bilbo’s ideas, and the others though it was a great idea.”

“Don’t you dare try to slither out of this,” said Bilbo as he rubbed circles on Lobelia’s back.

Dwalin hung his head and said no more.

Thorin stepped forward and said, “There has been a great injustice done by people in my hall. I take responsibility for their actions, and I will do everything to rectify this situation. Never let it be said—” It appeared that Thorin was winding up to give one of his infamous long-winded speeches, but as he looked at the group of victims, he caught eyes with the elf-king and faltered. “Never let it be said… um… said that dwarves are inhospitable… er, I mean, that I hope…” he trailed off, looking to Balin for help.

The dwarves snickered at their flummoxed king, but quieted when Balin strode forward. The elderly dwarf shook his finger threateningly at Dwalin before giving his brother’s beard a sharp tug. Dwalin paled. “You shame our family,” he said coldly. “No honorable dwarf has ever behaved in such a deplorable manner.”

“That’s because it’s a _hobbit_ tradition!” Kíli cheerily tried to explain, ignoring the tension around him.

“You see, it really is Bilbo’s fault,” said Bofur with a merry twinkle in his eyes, and once again the dwarves chuckled behind their beards.

“Now, now, no blaming Bilbo,” Dwalin protested. “It’s _mostly_ , well maybe half, my fault. Only a small bit is Bilbo’s fault.”

“Who’s to blame for the rest, then?” asked Ori.

The dwarves conferenced for a moment before agreeing, “Gandalf’s, of course.”

“Now, you stop it this minute,” exclaimed Bilbo.

Tears somewhat lessened, Lobelia turned watery eyes to Bilbo and said, “Bilbo, this will be such a scandal – worst than when you left. There’ll be no end to the shame; I’m engaged!”

“Otho finally asked you?” said Bilbo kindly. “I know how excited you were to be moving into Bag End.”

“Well, not yet,” Lobelia sniffed. “I mean, I’m spoken for, but it’s not official yet.”

“Thank Mahal,” sighed Dori. “I’ve still time to woo you then.”

The glare Lobelia shot his way would have been enough to have sent Smaug packing without a single arrow. Dori swallowed, and moved out of her line of sight behind Dwalin.

As Bilbo and Hamfast helped Lobelia off the floor of the great hall, Hamfast murmured, “Bilbo, I’m terribly confused. Bifur is a real nice fellow, but I’m _married_! Doesn’t he remember?”

Perhaps sensing that he was being spoken of, Bifur ambled over and took Hamfast’s hand. Gently, he opened the hobbit’s fingers and placed something within them. Opening his fingers, Hamfast smiled at tiny figurines of himself, Bell, and Bifur carved out of white stone. Hamfast said thank you and patted Bifur’s arm fondly.

Bilbo sighed – that would have to be dealt with too, he supposed. But for now, he needed to find a place for everyone to sleep. Who knew how long they’d been flying through the cold winter air to the mountain.

“All right, everyone, we’ll settle this in the morning. Let’s get everyone to bed.” Everyone turned to follow Bilbo toward the living quarters. “We will all feel better after a long sleep and a big breakfast, knowing that the sun has risen.”

“Now see here, Bilbo,” said Dwalin.

“Oh no you don’t, Dwalin and the rest of you lot. You’ll not set foot in this part of the mountain while our guests are here. I won’t have you pestering them.”

“Where will we sleep?” Kíli whined.

“You can sleep on piles of gold for all I care. Since the basic feelings of others seem to be so baffling to you, perhaps gold will be a better companion for you all!” With that, Bilbo swept off, shooing Ori and Fíli back with the others. The elves, hobbits, and men followed closely behind him.

As Bilbo tried to find rooms for everyone, Thorin came up. (Bilbo was tempted to send him off with the others, but it wasn’t his fault, and he didn’t quite dare.) He stood in front of the elf-king, looking unsure of how to address him, but finally said, “I would be honored if you and the prince would take my quarters during your stay.”

Thranduil gave him frosty glare, but followed Thorin. Bilbo hovered nearby, ready to intervene if necessary. Thorin opened the door to his quarters – five rooms altogether, not completely put together, but by far the nicest at this time in the mountain.

Thranduil ducked as he stepped in. “These are hardly suitable,” he said coldly.

Thorin’s hands clenched. “They will have to do. Bilbo will bring you some fresh linens, and I can move my things out in the morning.”

“Get them yourself,” Bilbo mumbled under his breath.

Apparently, Thranduil’s ears picked that up for the corner of his mouth twitched when he looked at the hobbit. “I suppose these will have to do,” he said slowly, voice dripping with disdain.

Just when the air seemed about to crack from all the tension, the elf-prince pushed his way in. “Oh, this isn’t that bad, father.” He moved gracefully around the room, looking in drawers and peering down vases. “There’s plenty of room for us both, and it’s full of all sorts of interesting dwarf-things.”

Thorin glared, Thranduil almost-smiled, and Bilbo exhaled loudly and pushed Thorin out of the room. As they walked down the hall, Bilbo hissed in Thorin’s ear, “I hope I don’t need to mention this, but I hope you make sure that you’re never alone with the king. It’s most important to make sure that no one could ever accuse you, especially since you’re royalty, of impropriety. You know how folks love to gossip.”

Thorin sputtered, “Of all the nerve – what makes you think – there’s absolutely nothing…” finally his words ground to a halt and stormed off. Bilbo grinned mischievously at his retreating figure.

Bilbo was still furious at Dwalin, but he was sensible enough to realize some good might come out of all this mess – if they were very, very lucky, indeed.


	20. The Complaining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo tries to get everyone settled, but everyone is being difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million apologies, my dear readers. Fear not, this story has not been abandoned, just between field trips, parent-teacher conferences, report cards, and one psycho student, my life has been incredibly hectic. My goal is to finish this thing for NaNoWriMo, so now I have even more incentive. Thanks for sticking with me!

Bilbo woke early the next morning. He would probably never gain the uncanny dwarven sense of telling time underground without the benefit of the sun, however, he supposed it was early due to how tired he still felt after last night’s hullabaloo.

He still couldn’t believe what Dwalin had done. The cad!

Wrapping his robe more tightly around himself, Bilbo climbed out of bed. When he found himself shivering and missing Dwalin’s warm frame, he scolded himself thoroughly. Dwalin deserved to be punished, and it would be no good if Bilbo forgave him this quickly.

Hurriedly, Bilbo dressed, keeping his toes on the rug and off the cold, stone floor. Dwalin had been so sweet, buying this old rug from Lake-town for their room – none of that now, Bilbo! He scolded himself.

As he scurried down to the kitchens, Bilbo did have to admit to himself that Dwalin’s heart had been in the right place, trying to help his friends. If only he hadn’t gone about it in probably the worst way possible, short of beating up the victim’s families on the way out.

Bombur greeted him in a manner far too cheerful for Bilbo’s determined-to-be-grumpy attitude. “I figured those little hobbits would be mighty hungry when they woke,” Bombur said motioning to the large breakfast he was preparing.

“You’re quite right, Bombur. Thank you,” said Bilbo appreciatively. “What’s this then?” he asked as he peered into a large cauldron of lumpy mush.

“That’s just plain, simple oatmeal,” explained Bombur. “It’s normally a regular breakfast for dwarves – good and hearty, but you’ve been spoiling us so with your fancy dishes. I thought, if you wanted, a few dwarves might not deserve our fancy breakfast.” Bombur’s eyes twinkled.

“Ah, I see what you mean,” said Bilbo nodding his head conspiratorially. “I do believe you’re right. I imagine certain dwarves might benefit from a simpler meal after last night’s activities. I think this will do them well.”

The dwarves and their unwilling guests trickled in at various times for breakfast. Bilbo was most firm about the kidnappers only getting plain oatmeal for breakfast, and most of the dwarves accepted their punishment in good form. Bilbo also tried to keep the dwarves seated away from the others, but Bifur especially kept wandering over to Hamfast, at least until Dís came downstairs and fixed a cool eye on him.

Dís brought Lobelia and Tauriel down with her, all three of them looking annoyed and uncomfortable. Lobelia brightened up when she saw the food and was almost smiling when Dori dared to walk by her and she had a chance to elbow him sharply in the ribs.

Dwalin sat down and ate his oatmeal, sending Bilbo looks so forlorn and miserable that Bilbo wanted to laugh.

Tauriel looked resigned, picking at a slice of thick brown bread and staring straight ahead, ignoring whatever antics Kíli was getting currently getting up to. Lindir and Legolas came together, whispering things to each other only loud enough for elvish ears to pick up. At the sight, Bofur looked a little sad, while Gimli just looked hungry as he eyed Hamfast’s overflowing plate.

Bard and Bain came next. “We got so lost, and I’m starving to death!” explained Bain as he heaped a plate high with food.

“I’m so sorry, Bain. I’ll make sure there’s someone to escort you next time,” said Bilbo. “These caves are probably unsafe for a young boy with all this destruction.”

Bilbo glared at Nori, who muttered, “Caves? Cheeky, little hobbit!”

Bain said cheerfully, “Oh, I don’t mind. It was exciting. I think I like it here, even though Da says Mr. Nori acted most d’plorably.”

Bard coughed, and Nori rose from the table and left the dining hall. Gimli snatched his half-eaten oatmeal before anyone could say otherwise.

Finally, Thorin came down, most regally late. Bilbo wanted to discuss a few things with him – sleeping arrangements, proper punishments, and the like – but he thought he’d better let the stormy-faced king get some food in him first.

When Thranduil strode into the room, looking elegantly like he was the king under the mountain, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared. Bilbo found himself twitching nervously when Thranduil approached him.

“Hobbit,” the elf-king addressed him.

“Bilbo Baggins, if you like, sir – er – your majesty?” Bilbo stammered.

“Mr. Baggins, I was led to believe last night that you had some position in this hill, correct? A butler or housekeeper of sorts, perhaps?”

“Er – not really, your majesty.”

“You brought me fresh linens and made the dwarf’s bed for me, did you not?” Thranduil seemed to growing sterner and angrier right before Bilbo.

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Precisely. I expect you to take care of all my needs. I cannot trust a dwarf to properly do that; can you manage?”

Bilbo spoke up quickly, before Dwalin could come to his honor or Thorin could come to his own honor, “Of course. I’ll be happy to see that you’re comfortable.”

“Good,” said the elf-king. “To start off with, I was most annoyed by having to come down here to find food. I expect my morning and midday meals to be brought to my quarters. I may occasionally eat dinner with the other elves if I chose. Legolas will eat with me.” He went on, ignoring Legolas’s “No, I won’t!” “I expect the best foods, the freshest fruit, the choicest cuts of meat…”

Bilbo wasn’t sure how long the list of the elf-king’s demands was going to be, but he thought he’d better stop him there. “Now, hold on just a moment, your majesty,” the hobbit said, stretching himself to full height (about half of the elf’s) and crossing his arms over his chest. “First off, we all eat breakfast in here. This room is warm and close to the kitchen. If I had to bring food to your room it would be cold by the time it got there. So if you want food brought to you, it will most likely be bread or dried fruit and it will come whenever I’m not busy. Secondly, if you haven’t noticed we’re living in a mountain with no way in or out until spring. We’ve only got so much food – and there will be less going around with all these added ‘guests.’ You share with what we have, but rations may be sparse before spring comes.”

Thranduil’s furious stare was something to behold, but Bilbo kept going. “Now then, why don’t you come over here and sit by Thorin. You’re both kings, so you can’t complain about being seated with the riff-raff.” Bilbo grabbed Thranduil’s sleeve and tugged him over to the table where Thorin was sitting, eyes firmly down on his plate. “Have a seat then, and I’ll bring you a plate today – tomorrow, you can serve yourself.”

With that, Bilbo scampered away, ignoring the angry stares on his back, to the kitchen, where Bombur handed Bilbo a plate of food. Bilbo brought the plate and set it before the elf-king, who said thank you very stiffly indeed.

Bilbo went and sat by the hobbits, the three of them along with everyone else watching the two kings first ignore each other, then try to find something polite to say, and finally end up complaining and griping at each other.

“I can’t believe you,” whispered Lobelia, “talking to the king like that!”

Bilbo shrugged; honestly, he couldn’t believe it himself. “You did try to kick him last night.”

Lobelia sniffed. “I can’t imagine what you mean. That doesn’t sound like me. I think you’re telling tales like you always do, cousin.”

After breakfast the elves and hobbits left to go back to their rooms, and Thorin called Fíli and Ori over to himself. Crossing his arms, Thorin asked, “Well, Fíli, what do you have to say for yourself?”

After Ori gave him a quick hand squeeze for courage, Fíli stepped forward. “I am sorry, Uncle Thorin, if I have disappointed you. It was never my intention to bring shame to my family and my kingdom. My feelings for Ori are very new, and I promise that I will act in a most well-behaved manner towards him.”

“That’s not how I found you last night,” Dís said, livid.

“Mum! We were only kissing!” Fíli protested.

Kíli spoke up, “Uncle Thorin said he used to catch you and Dad kissing all the time before you were married!”

“Stay out of this, Kíli. I have words to say to you yet about that _she-elf_!” Dís shouted.

“Sister, Kíli!” said Thorin firmly. “I need to speak to Fíli now. Sorting out Kíli is best left for another day.” Dís and Kíli both stepped back, shutting their mouths firmly. “Is what you said true, Fíli?”

“Yes, Uncle Thorin.”

“You say that you’ve only just started feeling this way. How can you be sure he is your One?”

Fíli smiled and said, “I think it’s a bit like Dwalin and Bilbo, except I got to be friends with Ori first. When I said yes to him, it just felt right, like things were coming together. I’ve been waiting to see if that feeling’ll change, but it hasn’t. It just feels so right.”

If Bilbo didn’t know better, he’d say Thorin was looking a bit flushed. “Very well, Fíli,” Thorin said. “Come here, Ori; let me speak to you.”

Nervously, Ori stepped forward, relaxing slightly when Fíli put his arm around the smaller dwarf’s shoulders. “Yes, sir?”

“I take it you love my sister-son?”

“Oh, yes, sir! I’ve been in love with since I first met him at Ered Luin, I think. It’s been growing so slowly, I hardly know when it began.” Ori was smiling so sweetly and shyly as he thought of how Fíli and Kíli had befriended him and, especially Fíli, had protected him along their journey.

“Very well,” said Thorin, gruffly. “I don’t doubt your sincerity, Ori, though I suppose you’ll have to prove yourself to my sister.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, young one,” interrupted Dís. “I’m beginning to think that I’ll soon be liking you more than I do my own sons!”

Thorin continued over the roar of laughter from the dwarves. “Fíli will be king under the mountain one day. Ori, you must learn to be his partner in every way, helping and encouraging all the time. I believe that you will be up to the task. Furthermore, your sensible attitude will temper his occasionally foolish one.” Thorin cracked a half smile. He rose and took their hands in his. “I give you my blessing, but—” he waited for the cheering to die down, “no wedding will happen until after this whole messy business is dealt with. Do you have anything to add, Sister?

Dís strode forward, kissed Ori on the head and boxed Fíli’s ears before hugging them both. “I don’t want to catch you sneaking around either! No more making out in dark corners, d’ya hear? It’s most ill-mannered.”

“Yes, Mum,” said Fíli with a red face. “I promise.”

“Good, now where is that brother of yours? I owe Kíli a good thrashing.”

“Not now, Mum,” whined Kíli as he hug-jumped Fíli and Ori from behind. “You can be mad at me later. It’s time to celebrate now!”

“There will be no celebrations of any kind for you, young dwarf!” Dís shouted, about to grab Kíli, but didn’t chase after him as he dashed away.

“No celebrations!?” Kíli fake-cried. “That is so cruel! Especially since it’s Mr. Baggin’s birthday so soon!”

“No, it isn’t,” said Bilbo, but everyone ignored him.

“He’ll be devastated, Mum. You don’t know this, but hobbits take their birthday celebrations very seriously. In fact, you’ll find that I’m quite the expert on hobbit culture ‘round these parts.”

Finally Kíli stopped running around when Tauriel came in, followed by Legolas and Lindir. He hurried over to her, wide grin on his face. Dís threw her arms up in despair, but stayed to watch. “Hello, Miss Tauriel,” Kíli said. “Were you looking for me?” He didn’t wait for a response. “If you want, I can show you around the mountain. I bet even an elf like you will have to admit that Erebor is more magnificent than even the pretty parts of Mirkwood!” Tauriel’s pretty face appeared to be almost in pain. “Come on, I’ll show you the mines and the treasure room and the—”

He would have gone on, but surprising it was Dís who came to the auburn-haired elf’s rescue. “Kíli, I bet she’s thirsty. Go get her a fresh cup of water.”

“Good idea, Mum,” Kíli shouted as he ran off to find fresh water that apparently wasn’t in the kitchen, without a cup.

“Perhaps, you’d like to join me,” said Dís to Tauriel. “I thought I could show you and the hobbit-lass our meager stores of cloth, and we can get Dori to sew you more clothes so you have a change.”

“That sounds most welcome,” said Tauriel. She turned to the elf-prince, “That is, if you can fend for yourself, Prince.”

“Of course,” said Legolas, eyes glinting mirthfully.

“I can show you the weapon room too, if you like,” said Dís as they walked out of the dining room.

“Now that sounds like something I would be most interested in seeing,” Tauriel stated brightly.

Bilbo laughed to himself as the ladies left the room. Dís would certainly be extremely useful in helping the dwarves mind their manners. Then Dwalin offered to help with the washing up, and Bilbo knew he wouldn’t be able to even pretend to be angry with him for much longer.

Eventually, Kíli came back having traveled deep into the mountain where he apparently discovered a cold spring, holding a emerald-encrusted chalice of water. “Where’d Tauriel go?” he asked sadly looking around.

“The elf’s with your mother,” said Dwalin, giving Kíli an encouraging smack on the back.

“That’s no good at all! Bilbo, couldn’t you have said something?” Kíli whined.

“Oh, hush,” said Bilbo shoving a dishcloth into the prince’s hands. “There’s nothing wrong with your mother taking care of Tauriel. I think it’s a good thing, in fact, for politics and relations and all that. Now, get busy drying.”

After they’d finished, Bilbo headed over to the two male elves, who were looking around the dining room as if it was an interesting archeological find. “I thought maybe you like to have a tour of the place. It’ll be best to know your way around since you’ll be… staying here with us. I’d hate for you to get lost.”

The prince smiled sharply. “If it’s all the same to you, Mr. Hobbit. Getting lost sounds like a most agreeable way to spend my time here.” He bent over to whisper in Bilbo’s ear, “In fact, I think my captivity here will be far better than the previous captivity of your dwarves. But don’t tell my father.” Legolas winked as he stood back up. 

Turning smartly on his heel, he called out to Kíli, who was brooding on a bench, “Come on then, dwarf-prince.”

Kíli’s head sprang up. “Where are we going?”

Legolas shrugged elegantly. “Where haven’t you explored in this gloomy mountain?”

Eyes bright, Kíli hurried over. “Oh, there’s loads of places. I’ve mostly been scouting out the living areas; I’ve hardly been down in the mines.”

“After you,” said the elf-prince with a half bow.

“Are you sure?” called Bilbo, worried for both princes’ safety and sanity.

“Never fear, Mr. Hobbit,” said Legolas.

“He’s called Bilbo,” said Kíli as they left, “Or Mr. Baggins. He can be so stuffy and bossy sometimes, but he’s a usually a good sport.”

“I heard that, Kíli!” shouted Bilbo after the pair, but they only laughed at him. He rubbed his head. Those two were going to be trouble together.

Remembering the young dwarf who had apparently claimed the elf-prince, Bilbo turned to Gimli to see how he was responding to this turn of events. However, instead of looking jealous, Gimli was only arguing with Glóin as they sharpened a whole table of axes. Apparently, the dwarf was too young to care or knew Kíli was too enraptured with Tauriel to be a threat.

Satisfied for the moment, Bilbo turned to Lindir, “No spelunking for you, then?” Lindir tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace. “Well, since you were so kind to show me the library in Rivendell, perhaps I could show you to Erebor’s? It’s not nearly as grand, and it’s in desperate need of renovation and organization. Furthermore, I can hardly read any of the books, but you may have better luck.”

Curiously Lindir asked, “Were the books much damaged by the dragon?”

“No, hardly at all. I think the doors were shut when the attack happened. All of Smaug’s banging around knocked most of them off their shelves, and they’re terribly dusty, but Ori says he hasn’t found any smoke damage or mildew,” Bilbo explained.

Lindir smiled and said, “I would be most pleased if I could visit the library. If it is permitted, I believe I can be of some help as well, even if I cannot read them.”

Bilbo took Lindir’s arm and led him out into the hall. “‘Permitted?’ Fear not, sir, I shall make sure that no one gets in your way. Anyway, I believe Ori and Balin will be extremely grateful for your assistance – after all, you can reach the high shelves.”

When Bilbo and Lindir arrived in the library, the elf looked around quickly at the clutter and strode over to Ori, who was working on stacking one of the many piles. “How can I help?”

Ori blinked up at him in surprise before responding. “Well, we need to get the books off the floor and see which ones have any spine or binding damage. Right now, we’re just putting those ones aside and stacking the others so we can organize through them later.”

Immediately, Lindir got to work. Bilbo and Ori just watched him for a minute as the elf’s quick hands appeared to fly, snatching up books, checking their condition, and stacking them swiftly and neatly in different stacks. “Thanks, Bilbo,” whispered Ori in amazement. “This may not take all winter if he’s helping out.”

Bilbo agreed. When he had free time, he would definitely return to help them, but right now he had other work to do – such as shooing Bofur out from where he thought he was cleverly hidden behind a fallen bookshelf from where he’d followed them in.

After a shamefaced Bofur was successfully chastised and on his way, Thranduil strode in, looking no more humble than before. Bilbo sighed. “This is the library, your majesty. It’s a little worse for wear right now, but we’re trying to set it to rights.” He thought about asking the king if he would like to help, but he didn’t want to push his luck after the morning’s chastisement. “Can I help you with anything?”

Thranduil looked around the messy room as he answered, “I was looking for my son, but perhaps he is best left to his own devices.” He sniffed and pulled his sleeves away from the floor. “It is very dusty in here, though perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised. I had heard rumors of the wonders of Erebor’s library, but clearly one cannot expect dwarves to take care of any treasures that are not their precious jewels.”

“There was – er – the dragon, your majesty,” Bilbo stammered.

The elf-king sighed as the ruin was a personal offence. “I shall retire. If it is not too much trouble for you, Mr. Baggins, perhaps you could ask Lindir to watch for any books in elvish that might be interesting and send them to my rooms. I don’t want to spend any more time in this dust, and only do so if you’re not too busy.”

Thoroughly chastened, Bilbo nodded and said, “Of course, your majesty. I’ll do whatever I can to make your stay more comfortable.”

The elf-king raised an eyebrow superciliously. “This is a prison, Mr. Baggins. And we are all trapped here together.” With that and a swing of his robes, he swept out of the library.

“You should know about prisons,” Bilbo muttered under his breath. He sighed. Never mind, the elf would have to get over his tantrum sooner or later, though he feared the long memories of the elves on that score.

As he left the library himself, Bilbo came across Thorin, who if he didn’t know better, appeared to be spying in the shadows. “What did the elf-king want?” Thorin asked.

“I think he wanted a chance to complain,” Bilbo said in annoyance. “I can see why the two of you hate each other – you’re so much alike.”

“Did he say he hates me?” Thorin asked, voice tight.

“No, he did not – oh, never mind. Here, go ask Ori for some nice books in elvish and take them too Thranduil. He’ll like that. Go one then.”

“Thank you,” said Thorin. “I mean, thank for helping me look after them.”

“Of course,” said Bilbo, bowing sarcastically at Thorin’s retreating back. Where was Dwalin? He needed to do some bellyaching of his own, and Dwalin was going to listen quietly for as long as he wanted.


	21. The Pranking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revenge is a dish served with too much salt.

Bilbo wished that he could say that things were settling down under the mountain, but that would not have been entirely true. The dwarves had been apologetic and had done whatever they could to please the others. As punishment, Thorin had followed Bombur’s example and stuck the dwarves on a no-treats diet, but that had lasted only about a day and a half before the pitiful begging had softened the heart of the king. However, he had stuck to giving extra work duties, but no one minded, since they were going to do the work anyways. Bilbo was pleased with that too, since it gave the dwarves less time to get into mischief following their would-be sweethearts around.

However, the apparently tranquility lasted only a short time once the “sweethearts” decided revenge was in order.

It was Lobelia who started it. (Though Bilbo always wondered if Dís had given her the idea.)

Bilbo first noticed that his breakfast tasted strange. Just when he was about to get up and see what the matter was, Lobelia came over and handed him another bowl. "Sorry," she whispered. "That one was supposed to go to your husband."

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, but slid the bowl in front of Dwalin as he sat down. Lobelia gave him a pleased grin. Dwalin and the other dwarves made a few faces while he ate, but all finished their meal. Bilbo was one hundred percent sure that Lobelia wasn't trying to poison and kill them; well, ninety percent certain.

Later Bilbo asked Lobelia what she'd done, and she simply said that she added a heavy dose of rosemary. Tomorrow she was going to add nutmeg. "I'm going to make everything taste off for them. As punishment, you know."

"All right then," said Bilbo, just make sure no one gets sick, will you? There's no worse patient than a sick dwarf!"

"It would serve them right," sniffed Lobelia.

Bilbo shook his head and looked around. A couple of the dwarves were complaining to Bombur (who was giving nothing away), while the rest appeared not to notice and were tucking into their meal with the usual relish. However, Dori more than others seemed to be having trouble; he was gulping water after every few bites.

"I salted his too," said Lobelia with a nefarious smirk. Bilbo swallowed nervously; he'd learned long ago that no good came of getting on Lobelia's bad side. He wondered if he should give Thorin a warning, but Lobelia had left apparently left him alone. Now that she had Bombur on her side, the dwarves’ food was not safe unless she decided to spare them.

Hamfast came over to Bilbo and explained. “Lobelia’s got it in her mind to teach the dwarves a lesson. She said she’d only leave Bifur alone if I promised to help her. I don’t really blame him after all, I’m sure the others talked him into it, and he’s such a dear after all.”

Bilbo crossed his arms, “Now, Hamfast, Bifur is a good sort and he’s a bit odd due to his head wound, but he’s no idiot. I honestly don’t know what he was thinking, kidnapping you and all, since he knows your married, but he’s no innocent in all this.”

“But I don’t think it’s fair to play pranks on him,” Hamfast said firmly.

“Do as you like then.”

“I’ll try to steer her away from your husband.”

“Oh, don’t bother. He was the ringleader after all. Besides salty food won’t hurt him,” said Bilbo with a grin.

“I don’t think salt and spices are all Lobelia had in mind,” Hamfast said worriedly.

“I am absolutely positive of that,” Bilbo agreed.

The next trick that Bilbo found Lobelia doing was putting rocks in the dwarves' packs before they went off to work. She started out slowly, like with the food, only a few small stones, nothing they would notice right off. Soon after that she had placed rocks the side of her fist in there all rattling around. Bilbo was amazed that they hadn't caught on yet, but putting them in gradually seemed to fool them into not noticing.

Lobelia convinced young Bain to help her do the dirty work. After Bard had given up trying to keep the lad by his side, he’d found how to get where he wanted to be without getting too lost soon enough. So while Lobelia was in the kitchen with half the dwarves keeping an eye on her to make sure that she didn’t tamper with their food, Bain was able to easily drop a few rocks at a time into their bags.

However, when Bilbo heard a great roaring in the hall he knew she'd be caught. He ran out, fearing the worst (though he wasn't sure who would be getting the worst - Lobelia or all the dwarves - probably the dwarves). Indeed, the dwarves had found their rucksacks full of rocks and had dumped them on the ground. Fortunately, Lobelia wasn't there.

"All right then, Bilbo," thundered Nori, "do you know who did this?"

Bilbo folded his arms across his chest and said nothing.

"We don't blame you, Bilbo, but this is too much," Bofur said. "I didn't mind the food too much, though it was unsporting of her to mess with a dwarf's food."

"What's wrong with the food?" asked Gimli.

Ignoring him, Nori explained, "We know it must have been that she-devil-hobbit of Dori's."

"Don't go calling her that!" protested Dori, cuffing his brother on the back of the head.

"You know I mean no offense to you, brother. You're a fool the same as the rest of us, thinking they'd ever love us after this mess."

The dwarves looked so despondent that Bilbo couldn't stand it. He encouraged, "Don't give up hope. If they're meant to love you they will. But they're mad right now, so you've got to be patient." He patted Bofur and Dori's shoulders. "And remember all that I've taught you – mind your manners and be real gentledwarves."

"Fair enough, Bilbo," said Nori. "We'll just have to keep a closer eye on our things if we don't want them tampered with."

Bilbo did try to keep things under control, but it was difficult. Lobelia had always been strong-willed. Soon enough though, she decided that the other dwarves had had enough and that she would focus her attention on Dori.

Bain sneaked her Dori's current knitted project, so that Lobelia could unravel the whole thing. To her exasperation, when Dori saw the neat ball of yarn she had brazenly left for him, he thanked her saying the knot he'd crated was so bad that he was afraid he'd never get it out and have to scrap the whole thing. It was too much when he went around to the other dwarves praising her deft fingers, and she strode off in a huff.

One morning, Lobelia convinced Dwalin and Bofur to open the main gate "just a crack" so that she could "just check" to make sure they were still snowed in. Of course they were as it was only November, but that didn't stop Kíli and Fíli from starting a snowball fight with the snow that tumbled in through the gap. Their play stopped when Lobelia fought back with snow-covered rocks.

Lobelia froze his clothes, hid his boots, and sewed his blankets in half. However to her frustration, nothing she did seemed to faze Dori. He was proud of her cleverness, sewing-skills, creative cooking, and sense of humor.

She was about ready to give up, when the others decided to join her. Hamfast was very clever at knowing which herbs would be itchy in trousers and which could be hidden on a pillow to make you sneeze.

Lindir came up with a different method of torture.

As much as Bilbo tried to keep him away, lovesick Bofur always seemed to be under Lindir's feet, often literally. Balin tried to scold him as well for distracting the elf from his most useful help, but Bofur always found his way back.

Finally, something in Lindir snapped, and Bilbo was glad that he had been there to see it. Bofur was trying to help Lindir stack books by reaching around the elf when Lindir said, "Would you like to hear some poetry?"

"Poetry?" queried Bofur, scratching his beard. "Can't say I'm much familiar with the art."

"I wrote it," Lindir murmured.

"Then of course I'd love to hear it! I'm sure if you wrote it, it'll be grand."

Lindir smiled. "Have a seat then." Bilbo tutted as Bofur sat right next to Lindir. Lindir cleared his throat and began. In his melodious tone, Lindir began calling Bofur every foul name Bilbo had ever heard (and many he hadn't) in Sindarian. Unable to understand, a pained look came over Bofur's face, but he leaned forward and listened carefully. Lindir's voice was mellow and pleasant to listen to, but Bofur had no idea what creative insults Lindir was coming up with. Bilbo had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

For over an hour, Bofur sat there until his knees ached and his head swam. He had to keep blinking to keep awake for every time his eyes closed for too long, a most exuberant part of the “poem” would come and Lindir’s enthusiastic orating would jerk him right out of his daydreaming.

Finally, Lindir decided Bofur had been punished enough and stopped. “What do you think?”

Bofur stammered, “Well – you see – I don’t – I’m sure it was very nice. I really wish I could understand it since it was elvish and all, but it sounded really pretty. You have a nice voice.”

Lindir placed his hand over his chest and bowed at the waist. “Thank you. Perhaps, I can recite some more tonight?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Bofur exclaimed quickly, “but I did promise Gimli that I’d help him… practice with his ax throwing. Poor lad has terrible aim, but next time, all right?”

“Certainly,” said Lindir, “next time I see you.”

Bofur stayed away from the library for several days after that.

However, Lindir wasn’t done with him yet. Bofur’s infamous hat went mysteriously missing. (The mystery wasn’t really in who took it – that was obvious – but in how he’d managed to get since Bofur never took it off his head.) When Bofur was sitting at supper, picking at his stew, Lindir came up to him and said, “I am sorry to hear that you’ve lost your hat, but I made you one as a replacement until you find it.”

With a flourish, Lindir pulled out an absolute monstrosity that only vaguely resembled a hat. Sure, it had a bowl shape for the head, but it was made out of some sort of knotted knitting with scraps of various colored fabrics woven in. Mimicking the ear flaps on Bofur’s hat, were large tassels pulled off some old drapes. Lindir smiled as he placed it gently on Bofur’s head. When Bofur mumbled a thank you after Bilbo kicked his foot, everyone erupted into laughter. Even Thranduil smiled at the dwarf’s predicament.

Serenely, Lindir sat and inquired, “I’ve been researching dwarven culture, and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions. Ori has been most helpful, but I thought that you might have a different perspective.”

“Certainly,” replied Bofur, happy that he would get to talk to the elf even if he had to give away his dignity in trade.

For the rest of dinner, Lindir asked Bofur awkward and vaguely insulting questions about dwarven culture, such as, Does your mother know about your kidnapping activities? Would she approve of them if she was alive? Did your dwarven mothers not teach their children manners? Are female dwarves as uncouth as you males?

Bofur could only respond quietly in humiliation. Bilbo was worried that some of the other dwarves might take offence at Lindir’s “unintentionally rude” questions, but they only laughed or ignored him.

After that embarrassing night, it appeared that Bofur was giving up on the elf, but within a few days, he was right back in the library, skulking about and pretending to search for a book to read. Lindir ignored him, but gave the hat back.

However, it was with Legolas that Bilbo never knew what to expect. Unlike his father, Legolas seemed to be undisturbed by the kidnapping and remained cheerful and even mischievous, not that his regal bearing ever gave it way, other than his oft-twinkling eyes.

When Tauriel wasn't ignoring Kíli or suffering Lobelia's newfound interesting in sewing clothes for the tall female, she was doing her best to keep the elf-prince out of trouble. She had been captain of Thranduil's guard, but under the mountain she only had Legolas to protect, not that he needed it.

Whether Legolas actually found Kíli's company agreeable or if he was trying to distract the young dwarf from Tauriel, the two spent a lot of time together exploring the deep mines and winding passage of the Erebor. If Bilbo had to guess, he might have suspected that Legolas was also seeing if he could make Gimli jealous, but that was a vain idea.

Bilbo liked the youngest dwarf - he was a hardy fellow, determined to prove himself as a warrior. Gimli was as hot-headed as Kíli, but he could be as patient as Balin when he had his mind set on something. He was as bright as Ori (though with less interest in book-learning) and had a kind heart.

For the most part, Gimli ignored Legolas. Bilbo suspected that Gimli might not know what he was supposed to do with his prize, which was fine by Bilbo; he was tired of dragging Ori and Fíli out of various corners, despite their every promise to behave.

Gimli seemed to view Legolas as a pretty jewel – a bit of treasure that, instead of sitting on a shelf, could wander around. Soon it became clear that Legolas also thought this was the case, so he began his own torment of the dwarf.

It first happened down in the training room. Dwalin was working with Bilbo on hand-to-hand combat, which consisted mostly of Dwalin laughing and covering his face and Bilbo punching him medium-hard in the stomach and chest. Gimli was practicing ax-twirling; the purpose of which Bilbo could only guess was showing off. Then Legolas and Kíli came in.

Legolas walked right over to Gimli and stood only a few feet away as Gimli swung his ax in twists and twirls. Nervous about the elf's proximity, Bilbo stopped smacking Dwalin and turned to watch. Legolas had a slight smile on his face as he watched the dwarf. "Careful," warned the elf-prince as the ax arced a few inches away from his unflinching nose. That one word broke the dwarf's concentration and after a few more spins, the ax slipped from his hand and landed several feet from Kíli who jumped and yelped anyway.

Gimli huffed and glared at the elf. Legolas quipped, "Not bad. It's a good thing you're doing all this practicing though."

Crossing his arms over his broad chest, Gimli growled, "I'd like to see you or any elf do better."

Legolas smiled and sauntered over to the ax. Gracefully he bent and picked it up. After hefting the weight to find the best grip, he began swinging the ax about him picking up speed until the ax was a blur in his hands. The dwarves and Bilbo watched in open-mouthed amazement, except Kíli who had a smug smile on his face.

Eventually the elf stopped and handed the ax to Gimli and explained, “I have more skill with the bow, but the ax is no difficult skill to learn for an elf at least. I’ve always found the bow to be more useful. Far better to shoot your enemy at a great distance then let him have a chance to get close and hurt you. But what do you think on the matter?”

Gimli sputtered, face red, and strode from the room, Legolas’s merry laugh following behind him.

From that point on Gimli and Legolas's rivalry escalated quickly. It had turned into a battle of anything-you-can-do-I-can-do-better and was a great annoyance for everyone, involved or not. Kíli was kept busy (and away from Tauriel) because he spent most of the day teaching Legolas ax-work or Gimli archery, though not at the same time. Legolas was a more apt pupil, but Gimli's resolve was so ferocious that Óin had to actually make him stop and rest every now and then.

Kíli and Legolas were growing close and it was finally starting to irritate Gimli. It was also starting to agitate Tauriel as well as the pair of them had this conversation right in front of Bilbo who was just trying to bring the prince fresh sheets.

"Legolas, your behavior with the young dwarf has become most inappropriate," Tauriel said.

Legolas replied, "But Gimli's so fun to tease. I'm starting to like him or at least enjoy how his face turns the same color as his scraggly beard."

"Oh, don't say that," interrupted Bilbo, horrified. "The others might be able to stop him, but he'll try to kill you if you said that."

Legolas inclined his head and apologized, "I meant no offense, Mr. Baggins. I will attempt to steer clear of any dwarven mortal insult."

"Oh, do call me Bilbo," said the hobbit. "I think we've spent enough time together."

Legolas nodded and turned back to Tauriel. "I mean no real harm to Gimli. Why are you so concerned about him anyway?"

"You know it's not him; I'm worried about... you spending time with. It's the prince," Tauriel choked out.

"I knew you cared about him!" Legolas crowed joyfully.

"Do not be absurd. I'm only thinking of your reputation as the king's son. All the sneaking off and training and conspiring together is unbecoming. I don't even think he realizes that you're flirting with him!"

"'Flirting with him?' Whatever do you mean, my friend?"

"Acting the fool does not become you – you know exactly what you're doing. I can only hope you're doing it to make Gimli jealous. The prince fell for me so fast; it would be easy for him to do the same with you. It would be unjust to break his heart." Tauriel rose and headed for the door. "Please consider my words."

When she left, Legolas laughed and declared, "I knew she likes him. She's growing jealous."

Bilbo shook his head. "You'll get yourself in trouble, just you wait and see. It's a good thing Kíli is so oblivious to your advances, real or not, and is so infatuated with her, but if you don't watch out, Gimli will do something rash, your highness."

Legolas only smiled and said, "Now then, Bilbo, you must call me Legolas, especially if we're going to work on getting the two of them together."

"You don't mind the thought of an elf and a dwarf together?" Bilbo asked.

"Personally, I find the thought of it revolting, but I think they could be happy together or at least entertaining."

"Oh, I would be careful," Bilbo admonished. "You may say that now, but I dare say if you fall for one, you won't find dwarves so abhorrent. Trust me, I know from personal experience."

Legolas looked at him thoughtfully and admitted, "I shall acquiesce to your knowledge in this matter, Bilbo Baggins."

In spite of their desires to skip their own training, Dwalin finally managed to corral Fíli and Kíli long enough to go over their practice routine one day. First, he had to shoo the elf-prince away, but then he made the two do twice as much practice. Fortunately, their lack of practice hadn't made them two rusty. After a long three hours of buckets of sweat and only a few drops of blood, Dwalin finally let them stop.

The pair collapsed in a heap on the ground, exaggerating their weariness. "Are you happy, Dwalin?" groaned Fíli.

"We are literally dead, Dwalin!" moaned Kíli. "There is no more life in me, and I am only a sad ghost talking to you right now."

Dwalin poked the dwarf with his book in the small of his back, causing Kíli to yelp. "Not quite dead yet are you?"

"You're so mean!" whined Kíli. "You never treat Bilbo like this!"

"I happen to like Bilbo," Dwalin responded as he wiped his face with a homespun towel. "He doesn't complain nearly as much as you."

"You're married to Bilbo; you have to like him," Fíli said, rolling over onto his stomach so he could raise himself up a few inches before dropping back down. "I _am_ dead."

"I married Bilbo, because I like him," clarified Dwalin, knowing his explanation was about as useful as talking to a pair of rocks. A couple of dumb rocks.

"You don't make Ori do this," said Fíli.

"It's not my job to train Ori. And yes, even if I did train him, I wouldn't make him do this."

"Because you're mean!" exclaimed Kíli as into the crock of his elbow as his arm as flung over his face.

"Because he wouldn't neglect his training, so I wouldn’t have to punish him.”

"I don't think you should train Ori," said Fíli. "If he wants to learn more, I'll teach him."

"You think you could train him in weaponry?" asked Dwalin. "I think we all know what you'd be teaching him."

"I wouldn't!" Fíli huffed. "I would never do anything to besmirch Ori's honor!"

"That's not what Bilbo says," muttered Dwalin, but he couldn't really blame the young dwarf. It was hard enough for him to keep his hands off Bilbo at times, and he had a few more years of self-control under his belt.

"I bet Fíli could teach Ori just fine," encouraged Kíli. "I'm training both Gimli and Legolas, and they're coming along great!"

"Mahal spare them," said Dwalin as he hauled both dwarves up and shoved them towards the water bucket.

"What? I'm doing a good job," said Kíli as he tried to yank his sweat-soaked shirt off. His muscles were too sore, so he changed his mind and decided to unbutton it instead.

"Kíli, I think that you should stop training them," said Fíli.

"What for?" asked Kíli. "It's fun."

"I think that you're spending too much time with Blondie. I thought you liked the redhead.”

“Don’t be stupid, I _love_ Tauriel. My love her is an unmoving mountain. My love for her is a rushing river. Legolas and I are just friends,” cried Kíli.

“Now you’re the one being stupid,” said Fíli. “You’re spending way too much time with that elf. Tauriel is bound to get jealous.”

Kíli’s eyes brightened. “Do you think so?”

“I doubt making an elf like that mad is a good thing.”

“You’re right. I never want to bring an instant of unhappiness to her. What should I do?”

Dwalin hurried to gather up his things. This conversation was becoming too saccharine for his tastes.

Fíli said, “Don’t let the elf flirt with you anymore. I bet you can get Gimli and Legolas to train one another. Tauriel is probably feeling abandoned, so spend more time with her.”

“Fíli, you are so smart,” cried Kíli, throwing his arms around his brother.

Dwalin rolled his eyes and made a hasty retreat.

During this time of retribution, Bilbo, with Dwalin's help, did his best to keep everyone as happy or at least taken care of as possible. The hobbits and elves soon found their place among the elves. Lobelia helped in the kitchen when she wasn't tormenting Dori. Legolas helped Kíli map the mountain and the damage. Bard was handy with construction and helped Bofur, Nori, and Dori reinforce the areas mapped by Legolas and Kíli until the real work could be done in the spring with dozens of dwarves. Lindir worked tirelessly in the library. When she wasn't keeping an eye on Legolas or avoiding Kíli, Tauriel assisted Dís in whatever she needed. (Much to Kíli’s chagrin, Tauriel and Dís had become close companions.) Hamfast was everyone's favorite and made himself useful in a myriad of ways.

Thranduil acted above manual labor and walked around criticizing everyone when he wasn't shut up in Thorin's quarters. Bilbo had no proof, but he suspected the elf-king of encouraging Lobelia and the others in their pranks. Certainly, he acted most amused in his superior way.

Thorin seemed in a daze. He told Dwalin that he felt like they had the right to torture their captors, which made him feel out of control even as a king. Thranduil's constant criticism was just salt on the wound.

Finally, one day Thorin had enough with Thranduil's acerbic comments. Lobelia was proudly telling the elf-king how she had dyed all of Dori's yarn an ugly green, when Thorin strode over and dropped a large stack of papers and ledger books on the table in front of them. After looking at the dwarf's obstinate face, Lobelia scampered off to watch at a safe distance.

"What is this?" Thranduil asked, deigning to lift up the top sheet with the tips of his fingers.

“I had Ori find these for me,” explained Thorin. “They are all the records of trade that Erebor has ever had with Mirkwood for the last five centuries or there about. You and I will go through them and using them as a guideline and keeping in light recent events of friendship we will establish trade once more. Jewels and stone for Mirkwood; food and wood for Erebor. Of course, when we need him, I will bring in Bard to represent Erebor.”

“You speak of recent friendship. I do not see kidnapping as friendship,” disagreed Thranduil.

Thorin’s chin jutted out as he replied, “Nor do I. But I will ignore that and recent imprisonment as well as ancient injuries, and I will instead remember battling side by side, in hope that we can help our people.”

Thranduil inclined his head. “That would be wise.”

A few tables over, Bilbo and Dwalin watched the two kings in amazement. “Perhaps things will turn out all right after all. I’d hate to go to war again.”

Bilbo squeezed his arm and said, “I doubt that it will come to that. All they needed was time.”

“Well, they’ve had months. It’s about time they got their heads cleared.”

Then they heard Dori yell, “Lobelia-love, what have you done with my yarn? It is the most lovely color – it matches your eyes perfectly. I shall knit you a sweater!”


	22. The Flirting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The elves and hobbits slowly give in, and it's more painful for some than for others.

Even after the torture had ended, there was still tension in the mountain. Bilbo had really cracked down on separating the dwarves and their guests except at mealtimes and work. He wanted them to feel safe and to be able to give a good account of everyone's behavior to their families when winter was over.

So the dwarves suffered, and perhaps Dwalin suffered the most since he had to listen to all the others gripe. Even though they were in the same mountain, they were still far away from the ones that they loved. Plus they hated not getting to sleep in their own beds.

Their captives were moody as well. Bilbo was helping them sort through a trunk of clothes they Kíli had found while exploring. Everything would have to be altered - since dwarven clothes would not fit elves nor hobbits.

"I'm getting sick of all this sewing," whined Lobelia. "I'm tired of cooking. I'm tired of this stupid mountain, and I miss the sun."

"I miss the forest," said Tauriel tossing down a needle that she had given up on trying to thread. "I hate not being outdoors. I feel trapped."

"Let me try that," said Hamfast, picking up the needle from the floor. After a few tries he handed the threaded needle back to Tauriel.

She only sighed and said, "What's the use? If I have to sew one more crooked stitch, I'll scream. I am a warrior, not a seamstress."

"There's nothing wrong with being able to sew," snapped Lobelia.

"You just said you were sick of it too."

Lobelia sniffed and turned away. Seeing Hamfast had wandered over to the door and was obviously seeing if he could spot Bifur, she snapped, "Come away from that door, Hamfast! I don't want any dwarves wandering in here if they see you."

"Be nice, Lobelia," said Hamfast tiredly. "Besides, I saw you sneaking into Dori's room just last night."

"I was stealing all his socks," Lobelia declared gesturing at Hamfast with her needle. Tauriel snickered. "And you're one to laugh, elf! I saw you out by the woodpile."

"I was getting wood for the kitchen," Tauriel snapped.

“Then what was Kíli doing there?”

Tauriel rose to her full height. “What are you implying, Halfling?”

“Oh, please,” exclaimed Bilbo, “don’t fight. Not now, not when I need you so.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Hamfast.

“Nothing’s wrong, but I can’t stand it if you all turn on one another.” Bilbo admitted, “I know it’s selfish of me, but I’ve enjoyed having you here. I love Dwalin and the other dwarves, but having someone else who’s not one of them is an undeserved reward.”

Hamfast patted Bilbo on the shoulder. “I know what you mean. If I can’t be with Bell, I’m glad I get to bring comfort to you.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Lobelia, but she gave Bilbo a quick hug.

“I appreciate that,” Bilbo responded. “Now, come on you three; I need to stop by the library to fetch Lindir, Ori, and Balin for lunch since they won’t remember.”

“Bofur too,” reminded Hamfast with a grin.

“But of course.”

Sometime during the next month, it was clear that the dwarves had been forgiven if the amount of times Bilbo caught couples together was any indication. They weren’t as bad as Fíli and Ori, at least not all of them right away. He had to admit that he found the budding romance sweet if undeserved.

Bilbo wanted ever so much to give up trying to keep them separate, but he felt it was his duty to keep high standards. The mountain was just so big! There were so many cracks and crevices. Dwalin should have been helping him, but he thought they were all far too sickeningly adorable and turned tail at the sight of any person or persons half-hidden by shadows.

* * *

Surprisingly, it was Tauriel who was the first to give in. The elf had been stewing in her room, wondering what the elf- and dwarf-princes were doing. At first she swore her growing annoyance was from protecting Legolas’s dignity, when in reality, that elf had no dignity left whatsoever in her eyes. Later, she could admit that, while annoying, Kíli wasn’t a bad creature. Besides, no one deserved to have their heart broken.

But the more Tauriel thought about broken hearts, the more she came to recognize the state her own was in.

This is ridiculous, Tauriel thought as she marched through the mountain, searching for Kíli or Legolas. She finally found them – Kíli perching on Legolas’s shoulders as he tried to hoist himself up into some sort of ventilation passage carved out of the stone.

“What are you doing?” Tauriel barked, which startled Kíli, who kicked Legolas on the side of the head, whose flinching caused them both to tumble down. Stepping over the elf-prince, Tauriel dropped to Kíli’s side. “Are you injured?” she asked gruffly, rubbing her hands over Kíli’s limbs.

Kíli blinked and smiled. “‘m all righ,’” he murmured cheerfully as blood dripped down the side of his face.

Tauriel quickly tore off a length of his tunic and wrapped it around the head wound. She saw that it was only a light graze, but it was still bleeding a lot.

Carefully, Tauriel helped Kíli sit up. “There now,” she said placing her hands on the sides of his face and kissing him softly on the lips.

For perhaps the first time in his life, Kíli didn’t need to say anything. He only smiled gently and returned the kiss.

Right behind them, Legolas stood up silently, cradling his sprained elbow in his left arm and noiselessly went to find Óin.

After Bilbo heard about the accident, he went to find Kíli. When he found the dwarf-prince and elf-warrior wildly kissing and embracing one another on the stone floor, he squawked in protest, but left them to their own devices.

* * *

Despite the rumors of the legendary unyielding nature of the elves, Lindir was the next to give in. It happened more gradually with Lindir and Bofur.

Once Bofur stopped being so underfoot in the library and started helping out, Lindir no longer tried to force him away. Bofur was no scholar, but he could read the dwarven titles at least. The worked side by side; Lindir checked the covers for damage and passed the book to Bofur, who would then stack the books in alphabetical sections.

(Poor Ori had to go through all those again and sort them by subject and author when they were done, but they were stacked near where they had fallen, so it wasn’t too much bother.)

Lindir and Bofur didn’t say much to each other, until in the middle of one day he said, “I wrote you some poetry.”

Lindir almost dropped the book he was holding. “You did?” he cautiously asked.

“Yes,” Bofur said, shuffling his feet. “Would you like me to read it to you?”

Lindir hesitated a moment, wondering if this was punishment or not, but decide it was only polite to sit down and listen. Bofur cleared his throat and recited a short poem of only tens lines, many misspellings, and sparse rhymes. The title was “Bofur’s Folly.”

Lindir smiled at the ending and said, “That was wonderful. May I keep it?”

Bofur knew it was horrible, but his face lit up at the elf’s request and handed the parchment over.

“Thank you,” said Lindir.

From then on, Lindir and Bofur wrote each other poetry – terrible, funny, or flowery, but always sincere. They would read it to each other right after lunch. In the evenings, Lindir read books to Bofur and whoever else cared to listen. He usually chose adventure stories, but Bofur loved everything he read.

* * *

When Legolas fell, he gave his elbow a nasty sprain. Óin put it in a sling to immobilize it for a few weeks. Fortunately, elves heal fast, but even with the short about of time in the sling, he elbow stiffened up, and it took longer to loosen the taut muscles than they needed to heal.

With both Kíli and Tauriel otherwise occupied most days, Legolas usually found himself alone with Gimli in the training room. Kíli had suggested that the two of them work together to improve their skills, but Legolas thought that scheme was all too transparent.

However, since he wanted his arm to heal, Legolas was forced to given in. Óin gave his nephew strict instructions on how to help Legolas bend the arm with moderate resistance and how to rub the knots out afterwards.

It annoyed both of them to have to touch one another, but Gimli’s hands were surprisingly gentle and Legolas’s arm was not icy flesh like rumors had said. It came naturally to practice fighting left-handed with one another while Legolas was injured.

And after a month and Legolas’s arm was like new they kept sparring together. The insults they traded with one another were friendly and carried no sting behind the playful words. Soon it seemed as if no one could escape their teasing banter for they wandered around the whole mountain together.

* * *

As the two kings currently in the mountain debated and discussed trade and politics with one another, it was Nori, who encouraged Bard to join them.

“You’re their leader now – you’ll be the king of Dale one day. You should have a say,” Nori explained.

“I’m trapped in this mountain! They’ll have elected a new leader by now,” Bard replied.

“Nonsense. They know you were kidnapped, not killed. Besides, it’s winter – they’ll be too busy trying to survive in their makeshift homes to worry about who’s leading them until spring.”

“I should be there with them.”

“I know you should,” said Nori remorsefully.

“I know you’re sorry, Nori.” Bard continued firmly, “But I should be there taking care of them.”

“You still can take care of them from in here – you can assure a good future for them. Thorin and Thranduil will listen to you, and I know they will treat you fairly. After all they have no quarrel against you. You’re an honorable man and a hero.”

Bard frowned, but rose and said, “Very well. I suppose it would look weak to ask you to come with me.”

Nori laughed. “You don’t need me! But I’ll make you a deal – each night I’ll sit with you at dinner, you can explain everything, and I’ll tell you if you’re getting a fair shake.”

“Very well,” Bard stated.

Nori watched him as he walked over to the two kings. One day those will be three kings, he thought, and Bard could be the best of them all.

“Come on, Bain,” he called, getting up and gathering his tools. The boy ran over. “I’ll teach you how to pick locks today if you promise not to tell your da.”

“I always tell him what you teach me,” Bain quipped. “He likes hearing about it, but he always tells me to never use any of it unless I have to help someone.”

“Good lad. Come on then.”

* * *

Hamfast was very fond of Bifur, but it was proving to be difficult to remind the dwarf that he was already married. Bifur did remember Bell as he often whittled figurines of her among the dozens that he made.

Whenever Hamfast told Bifur that when spring came, he would have to leave and go back to the Shire, Bifur would become so forlorn that Hamfast gave up reminding him. Instead he decided to enjoy the dwarf’s company.

With effort they were able to communicate with each other. Bifur could usually comprehend what Hamfast said as long he didn’t speak too fast or use too unfamiliar words. Going from Bifur to Hamfast was more difficult, but though he didn’t speak words that Hamfast could understand, he did use hand gestures. With time Hamfast was able to figure out what they meant, which depended on the context of what other symbols Bifur used.

They could have whole conversations with one another – Hamfast talking about one thing and Bifur signing about something else. They were both perfectly content with that and their company.

* * *

Lobelia was the last to give in. Dori refused to give up on the stubborn hobbit. He was always polite and kind, no matter what she did. In all actuality, Dori found everything she did wonderful and charming. That was a new experience for Lobelia. In the Shire, Lobelia was often disliked or only tolerated by her neighbors and families. The few hobbits that she could call friends, like Bilbo, liked her because of her personality. Otho was only with her because she and his mother had bullied him into the match. Lobelia was a lonely hobbit.

At least until Dori came for her.

She had never been treated so well. Dori cared for her as if she was a precious jewel – valuable and rare. Eventually, all the admiration wore her down, so one day, out of the blue, she approached Dori.

“We should get married,” Lobelia stated.

Dori blinked at her before a huge grin spread across his face. “Of course, my precious darling. Do you want to get married now or wait until spring? My desires are yours.”

Lobelia wanted to get married now. She had no desire to wait and have the option of returning home to Otho and her family and the Shire. “I want to get married now; well, at least before spring. There needs to be time to plan me a wedding. I know you all wanted that wizard to marry us, but I think two kings performing the ceremony will be just as grand.”

Dori gently hugged her as he replied, “Anything you wish, you will have, Lobelia-love.” He picked her up by the waist and spun her around, her skirts flying.

Lobelia laughed and smacked Dori’s broad shoulders. “Put me down! Go tell the others so everyone can start getting ready. I’ll go find Dís; a princess will make a fine maid of honor and Tauriel can be a bridesmaid.”

“I’m afraid that I don’t know anything about hobbit wedding traditions,” Dori confessed.

“Don’t worry; I know everything. I’ll teach you.”

“I shall gladly learn.”

* * *

The next week was a flurry of activity with everyone under the mountain following Lobelia’s instructions. Thorin was grumpily against the whole idea at first, but once he saw how enthusiastically everyone threw themselves into the decorations and preparations, he relented. Not that he had much of a chance against the hobbit anyway.

It was a lovely ceremony. Dís and Tauriel were bridesmaids and Nori and Ori were groomsmen. Bilbo and Hamfast gave Lobelia away. Thorin and Thranduil somehow managed to get along long enough to perform the ceremony. 

Using the last of the sugar, Bombur had made a delicious cake that everyone got several slices of. After the cake, everyone danced, showing off and learning the different cultural styles.

After Dori had swung a half-heartedly protesting Lobelia in to his arms and everything had been cleaned up, Dwalin pulled Bilbo aside and asked him, “Did you have fun, Bilbo?”

“I did. I’ve never seen Lobelia look so happy. I’m surprised that she agreed to marry him so fast, but I’m glad I won’t have to worry about her so much anymore.” Bilbo rested his head against Dwalin’s arm and stated, “I am tired though.”

“Come on,” said Dwalin as he took the hobbit’s smaller hand in his. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Bilbo perked up as he followed Dwalin out of the dining room/wedding hall. “What is it?”

“I’ve put together a little room for use on the other side of the mountain with enough food to firewood to last several days. You and I are having a holiday,” Dwalin explained.

Bilbo laughed. “You know exactly what I need, don’t you?”

“This will have to last until we can go on a real honeymoon together. I’d be a cad, if I tried to pass off our dangerous trek across Middle-earth as one, after all.”

“Well, this will do very nicely for now,” said Bilbo. “Thank you.”


	23. The Tricking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I just make up stuff about hobbit and dwarf reproduction and pay little attention to timelines.

Months passed and spring drew near. Things had settled into place – relationships had grown from enemy to friend. Everyone was happy, if not entirely content away from their homes and loved ones.

All of that changed one morning after breakfast when Dori burst into the dining hall and shouted, “Óin! Bilbo, Hamfast! Brothers and Balin too! Come with me! Hurry!”

“What’s wrong?” exclaimed Bilbo, hurrying out the door.

“There’s something wrong with Lobelia,” choked Dori, his waving arms in contrast to his normally calm self.

That did it. Within moments everyone in the mountain was by Lobelia’s side or hovering outside her room, pushing and shoving for a spot so they could see. Lobelia was sitting in her rocking chair that Bifur had made, rocking slowly back and forth. “What’s going on?” she asked calmly, eyebrow raised.

Dori pushed his way through the crowd and exclaimed, “Lobelia is pregnant!” The room erupted.

“Congratulations!”

“How is that even possible?”

“Wait, what did Dori say?”

“Is she going to die? I don’t want Lobelia to die! I like her now!”

“This is wonderful news!”

“This is terrible news!”

“Who’s going to die?”

“I’ve never heard of anything like this ever happening.”

The noise would have continued indefinitely except that Óin shouted, “Will you all please be quiet!?” The noise stopped. “Now let me through. I need to examine the patient.”

“Hold on a moment,” Lobelia protested. “I don’t see what all the excitement is about.”

“Sit still,” demanded Óin, putting his hand on her forehead.

“This is just silly,” Lobelia protested. “Hobbits have been giving birth without complications for years and years.”

Óin shushed her and continued his examination. “Been feeling sick?” he asked.

“No.”

“Headaches? Stomachaches? Back pain? Sore feet?”

“Nothing! Really, I feel fine.”

Óin sat back and rubbed his beard. “You do seem healthy, which is surprising even this early in your pregnancy.”

“What on earth do you mean? It’s only a baby – not the plague!”

Dori reached over and clasped her hands in his. “My dear, you don’t understand. Dwarf pregnancies are always very dangerous for the mother and the child!”

“Oh, for goodness sake,” Lobelia huffed. “You’re all making such a fuss!”

“Indeed not,” said Óin. Dwarf pregnancies are so very rare and can be difficult if the mother is not under constant care.”

“Now, that is too much!” declared Lobelia. “I’m not some fragile vase.”

“No offence meant, Lobelia-love, but you are fragile, compared to Lady Dís for example. She was strong enough to have two healthy boys. Dwarven females are so rare and can die if not cared for well enough that pregnancies are normally carefully planned out in advance.” Dori hung his head, “I am so sorry. I never meant for this to happen.”

“This is so silly! Hamfast, please explain to these dwarves how silly they’re being.”

Everyone turned to Hamfast who nodded a bit nervously. “Now Bell hasn’t had any babies yet, but my mother had a whole bunch. Baby making is easy for hobbits. I’ve never heard of anyone getting sick, other than maybe a stiff back and swollen feet, and certainly never dying.”

Bilbo agreed, “It’s true. Some families chose to only a few children, my own for example, but many have a half dozen or more.”

Except for the hobbits, everyone gasped. “That many?” asked Dís sitting on the bed. “I would have never survived!”

Lobelia grinned. “I guess us hobbits are just better than you dwarves and elves once again,” she cheekily bragged.

Óin was not so enthusiastic. “I will still keep a close eye on this pregnancy. A dwarf-hobbit baby is not something I have ever heard about, so we don’t know what complications may come. It will probably be more difficult than you expect.”

Bilbo spoke up, “But perhaps it will also be easier than you fear. Hobbit mothers are very good at having children. Lobelia’s strength may balance out any dwarven difficulties.”

Rubbing his beard thoughtfully, Óin made no answer, other than, “We shall see.” He draped another blanket over Lobelia’s lap and then shooed everyone out of the room.

“Don’t worry, Lobelia,” cried Kíli as he was shuffled out the door. “We will take good care of you.”

“I’ll get Bombur to make all your favorites,” promised Fíli.

Back in the dining hall, Thorin spoke gravely to everyone, “If there is a baby, it will be a blessing to both dwarves and hobbits. We must do everything that we can to help protect Miss Lobelia.”

The gathered dwarves nodded in agreement and set about doing whatever they thought best for the future child be it knitting a blanket, carving toys, or constructing a cradle.

* * *

Several months earlier the night the kidnapping occurred, Elrond stood in his chambers waiting for his sons to return. He watched the skies, but sought no answers in the clouds. Elladan and Elrohir soon raced into his room. “What news?” Elrond asked the two warriors.

“Only Lindir was taken from our house,” said Elladan.

“Those who heard him shouting saw a great eagle flying away,” continued Elrohir. “I cannot comprehend this for the eagles have always been our allies.”

“The Lord of the Eagles does what he will, but I will not count him my enemy until I know more,” Elrond said firmly. “Send word to Gandalf at once.”

The twins looked at each other. Elladan spoke from them both, “We will go ourselves.”

Elrond inclined his head, “Very well. Ride swift. He should be north of Beleriand or in Ered Luin, though one rarely knows where the Grey Wizard wanders.”

He sons clasped him briefly before turning and striding quickly away. Soon they would return with news if they could stay out of trouble.

* * *

There were few riders swifter than elves, and Elladan and Elrohir spent more time than most elves on horseback. Within a week, they had found Gandalf and quickly explained what had happened.

Gandalf just laughed.

“This is no jest, Wizard,” scolded Elrohir. “Imladris has been breached. An ally may prove to be an enemy. There has been no sign of our Lindir, be he alive or dead.”

“Peace, young elf,” said Gandalf. The twins bristled at the name. “I believe you have nothing more to fear than a lovesick dwarf. I wonder which one it was.” Gandalf chuckled again. He turned his cart and pony northwest and commanded, “Come on then. I will send a message to your father or you can take it to him yourselves. Though, I would appreciate it if you would come with me. I may need your help.”

“Where are we going?” asked Elladan.

“To the Shire.”

“What do hobbits have to do with Lindir missing?”

“That remains to be seen.”

It did not take the trio long to reach the Shire. When they arrived, Thain Fortinbras Took II, hurried out to meet him. “Thank goodness you’re here, Gandalf.”

“I always try to arrive when I am needed most,” Gandalf replied with a twinkle in his eye. “Now tell me what has happened here.”

“Eagles, Gandalf! Eagles and dwarves! They’ve kidnapped two of our young hobbits, and we can’t figure out why,” the Thain babbled.

“I expected as much. Who is gone?”

“Mr. Hamfast Gamgee and Miss Lobelia Bracegirdle were taken.”

Gandalf nodded and asked, “Now take no offence, but when the dwarves visited last time, did those two seem especially friendly with any of the dwarves.”

“I cannot say, but here, Otho, tell Gandalf about Hamfast,” urged the Thain, pushing a young, rotund hobbit forward.

Otho bowed and stared wide-eyed at Gandalf and the two elves still astride their horses. “Lobelia and I talked about getting married, Mr. Gandalf. She was a relative of Bilbo, and Hamfast was one of his friends. Hamfast and Bell and some others spent time with the dwarves, so I don’t know why they were taken. Lobelia hardly met them; she didn’t like them much, I don’t think.”

“Thank you for explaining,” said Gandalf. “May I talk to Bell as well?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, you can’t,” explained the Thain. “She and several others have chased after them.”

Gandalf smiled and said, “That is good. They can’t be far ahead of us then. We will catch up and escort them to Rivendell and beyond if they wish to keep going on their mission.”

Fortinbras smiled in relief. “That’s a weight off my back, sir. I was worried about those young hobbits out in the wilderness. You’ll keep ‘em safe, though. But water and rest your horses before you leave, good sirs. The hobbits are walking and only left a few days previously. You’ll have plenty of time to catch up before they’re too long gone.”

On their horses, the elves and Gandalf caught up with the five hobbits in no time at all. They were surprised and pleased to see them. Drogo Baggins explained how they hoped to reach Rivendell and ask for help for journeying the rest of the way.

“We’ve been using Bilbo’s maps,” explained Bell. “It hasn’t been too bad, but it’s getting colder.”

“And very cold it will be by the time we reach the Lonely Mountain,” reminded Gandalf.

“Do you think they’ve gone that far?” asked Paladin Took.

“I am certain these are Bilbo’s dwarves. That’s where they will be,” Gandalf said.

“Did they ever slay that dragon?” Drogo wondered.

“Ah, the story of Smaug’s demise will keep us entertained on our way. I will tell you all about it. I know you’re good walkers, but climb into my cart for a while. Bell looks especially tired,” Gandalf said with a wink.

The hobbits gratefully climbed into the cart and they were soon on their way.

When they reached Rivendell, the Elrond’s elves took good care of the hobbits and equipped them for their journey through the winter. “We will go south,” explained Gandalf to Elrond. “I will not risk the mountain pass nor the caves with the hobbits.” He rubbed the hilt of Glamdring and stated, “Even with a score of intrepid elven warriors, I would not risk the caves in these days. I sense evil lurking there. We will go south.”

“The distance may be longer, but I believe the easier route will prove to be quicker,” agreed Elrond.

Snug, well-provisioned, and provided with sturdy ponies, Gandalf, the hobbits, and their elven guards left Rivendell as the first snows began to fall from the grey skies overhead.

With their new companions, the hobbits fared much better on their journey. Bell was the most determined and had to be made to stop and rest when she would have preferred to continue on. Drogo was steadfast and encouraging. Primula was cheerful and entertained the others with stories and songs along the way. Paladin was sensible for a Took at least; he quickly became friends with the elves. Esmeralda was the quietest, but whenever she made a suggestion everyone soon learned to listen to her words. Her ideas were always sensible and wise.

Elladan and Elrohir weren’t so bad either when they decided you were worth befriending.

Though they were worried about their friends and family, the group was a merry one. Nothing could keep them down for long, not huge snowdrifts, the bitter cold, or sore backs – they continued on.

It was three months past the start of the New Year when they finally reached the borders of Mirkwood.

Even with Gandalf vouching for them, the Mirkwood elves were very suspicious of the hobbits and almost refused to let them through.

“Foolish elves,” Gandalf cried. “Their kin have been taken too.”

One elf walked forward with a cold sneer on his beautiful face. “Was the Halfling’s king taken? Perhaps their prince?”

“We don’t have any old princes and kings,” huffed Bell, climbing out of the cart, her belly clearly heavy with child. “We don’t need them. Now, show us the way through, or we’ll go around, but we certainly don’t have time to bandy words with you, elf. I’m just about ready to burst, and I’d rather like to have my baby indoors and not on the road, if you don’t mind.”

The promise of a newborn was enough to soften the hearts of even the wildest Mirkwood elves. “Come,” said their leader, “we will allow you safe passage.”

“Good then,” said Bell. “Help me back up.” She waited, toes tapping, until the elf took her by the elbows and lifted her back in the cart. “Thank you.”

“We must stick to the path with your wagon and horses, but we must travel quickly. Even with our best efforts, without our king the forest has grown more dark and dangerous.” The elf captain led them swiftly to Thranduil’s palace.

A few days later, Bell gave birth to Hamfast’s son – a healthy boy she named Hamson. Any misgivings the elves had about the hobbits vanished as they begged for a chance to hold the wee hobbit. Bell wanted to go right away to the base of the mountain once she had rested, but the group decided to stay in Mirkwood. The elves promised that once the snow started to melt, they would send word. From Mirkwood, they could travel to the Lonely Mountain and be there by the time the door was able to be opened. And then they would get their loved ones back. No matter what.

* * *

Back in Erebor, Bilbo watched Dwalin. He had come to the conclusion that his husband was nervous. What about, he did not know. But Dwalin had been gone to parts unknown and taciturn when he was around.

Finally, Bilbo pulled him aside and asked, “Dwalin, are you unwell?”

“Nothing ails me,” Dwalin said.

“Please tell me what’s wrong. I hate seeing you upset like this,” Bilbo begged.

Dwalin pulled Bilbo into his arms. “I am not upset, my dear. It is only that spring approaches, and I am trying to figure out what to do.”

“I will always be astounded at how well you dwarves can tell the passing of time. You’re better than my great-grandfather’s old clock by far. Won’t spring coming be a good thing? I’m looking forward being outside personally.”

Dwalin sat on their bed with Bilbo beside him. “When we open that gate, I fear who will be waiting on the other side. Angry men from Dale and elves from Mirkwood will be there for certain. We cannot stand another battle. Thorin deserves better than that.”

“I doubt it will come to battle,” reasoned Bilbo. “After all, no one is hurt and they can explain everything to their families. It will take time, but surely we’ll all be forgiven. Besides Thranduil and Bard are their leaders – they’ll have to obey.” Bilbo smacked Dwalin on the arm, “Why couldn’t you have thought of all this before you went and kidnapped them?”

Dwalin sighed deeply, and Bilbo kissed his cheek. “I apologize, my love. It’s unfair of me to tease. I know you regret it. Come now and don’t fret. Let’s go see Thorin and work it all out.”

Dwalin kissed Bilbo back and followed his hobbit out of their room. Bilbo was right – he was sorry – and it would be his job to fix his mess.

* * *

Fíli and Kíli came running into the dining hall. “We cracked open the door like uncle said to do each morning to check on the snow level,” explained Kíli, bouncing on the balls of his feet, “and there was a good foot of sunlight peeking through at the top.”

Everyone except Thorin, Dwalin, Balin, and Thranduil cheered.

“I’ll go tell Lobelia,” Dori said jumping up. “She’ll want to know.” He was about to race out of the room when Ori stopped him and handed him her plate of food. “Thanks, brother.” He was gone.

“It’ll be grand to see the sun again,” said Bofur, patting Lindir on the back. “I know you elves have missed it. We dwarves are made of sterner stuff.”

“Indeed you are,” said Lindir with a soft smile. Bofur blushed. Dwalin groaned.

“I too am looking forward running through the forests again. I never thought that I could miss my home so much,” said Legolas.

“I’ll be glad to see the back of ya,” teased Gimli.

“Do not say that,” cried Legolas. “I could not bear it if our days of exploring were over, my friend. You shall come with me.”

Gimli sputtered, but Glóin laughed and smacked his son on the back. “You’re the one who caught him laddie. Didya expect to get rid of him so quick now that winter’s over?”

Hamfast sat down beside Bilbo. “What do you think we should do next?” he asked. “I miss Bell, but I’ll hate leaving Bifur. Maybe he can travel with me, but I don’t know if he’ll leave his brothers.”

Bilbo patted his friend’s arm. “Don’t worry, Hamfast. It’ll all get sorted out. You’ll see.” Hamfast nodded.

On Bilbo’s other side, Dwalin spoke up, “I’ll make sure that you get safely home, Hamfast – you and all the others.”

“What if they don’t want to go?” Bilbo murmured. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Dwalin asserted. “Their families deserve to have them back safe and sound.”

“Well, we have a few days left Balin says before the snow is melted enough to begin our descent. That’s plenty of time to figure things out on our end,” Bilbo declared.

“You don’t need to worry, Bilbo. I’ll take care of everything,” insisted Dwalin.

In the end, it actually took about a week for the snow to melt enough for the dwarves to push the heavy doors open. Everyone cheered as the snow tumbled back and the sunlight streamed in. Shovels were found, and soon the dwarves were clearing a path through.

Showing off, Legolas sprung off Gimli’s shoulders and landed on a snow bank. Lightly, he walked along the top of the snow, playfully insulting the dwarves’ work below him. Then suddenly he froze and was silent.

“What do you see, Legolas?” Thranduil asked, noticing his son’s lack of movement first. Everyone stopped and looked at the elf-prince.

“A company of elves, men, and dwarves is camped at the base of the mountain. They are hundreds strong,” Legolas explained. In an instant, he dropped to the emerging path below. “I do not know if their eyes caught me.”

“Are we under siege?” asked Balin, wrapping his coat around his shoulders tighter.

“I believe not,” Legolas said. “They were from Mirkwood and Dale. I saw Dáin Ironfoot’s banner as well.”

“There was no sign of fighting? They looked well?” asked Bard.

“I saw no signs of battle. In fact, they appeared to be still setting up camp.”

Thorin surmised, “They must have realized that the snow was melting.”

“They’ve come to rescue us,” sniffed Tauriel. “If I had been on the other side of this snow, I would have dug my way in.”

Legolas laughed, “We know you would have tried, but even the dwarves could not do it, though there were large grooves where it looked like they tried.”

“We must go out to meet them,” Thorin explained.

“Will they listen, or will they take revenge?” ask Óin.

Glóin said firmly, “If it’s battle they want; we’ll be ready.”

“No fighting, please,” begged Bilbo. “There’s been enough of that.”

“Bilbo is right,” Thorin said. Thranduil nodded. “We will not raise arms against our kin and theirs.”

“Then what do we do?” asked Fíli.

“We go out to meet them under a flag of truce,” Dwalin said. “I’ll go down with them and explain what happened – that it was my fault and make them spare the rest of you.”

“Oh, not you, Dwalin,” exclaimed Bilbo. “You’re not going down there by yourself! They might be so angry that they won’t listen.”

“They might kill you,” said Bofur.

“It needs to be done, and I’m the one to do it,” Dwalin insisted.

Bilbo put his hands on his hips and said, “Then I’m going with you.”

Dwalin wrapped his large hands around Bilbo’s upper arms and squeeze gently. “No, love, you’re not. You’re staying here and shutting the door and staying safe with the dwarves, do ya hear me?”

Bilbo glared and refused to answer.

Balin walked over to his brother. “We’re not letting you go alone, and that’s that.”

Hands thrown up in the air, Dwalin groaned, “I’m trying to make things right, but you lot won’t let me! I’ve got to do this. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to anyone of you on account of my mistake.”

“Come on now, Dwalin, you may have had the idea, but you can’t take all the credit,” said Fíli.

“He’s right,” agreed Kíli. “You’re not going down there.”

“No one should,” said Gimli. “They can come to us if they like.”

“I doubt that will work, laddie,” said Glóin. “Climbing up here might make them angrier.”

The arguing went round and round and no one noticed Hamfast whispering in Lindir’s ear. “I don’t want to go down there.”

“Why is that?” murmured Lindir.

“I don’t want to leave, and I know Lobelia won’t either. I don’t know what your people will do, but I don’t want anyone fighting over me.”

Lindir explained, “I doubt the Mirkwood elves will allow their king and prince to be returned without blood to pay the debt.”

“What do we do then? I don’t want to go, and I don’t want them to come up here.”

“Come,” Lindir said as he took the hobbit’s hand in his. They sneaked back into the mountain. “If they can’t find us, they can’t send us away. And if they’re looking for us, then they will be safe inside.”

Hamfast smiled and said, “Clever. Let’s go get Lobelia and tell her what’s going on. She’ll join us.”

The pair didn’t notice Bain and Legolas following them inside, having come up the same idea.

It was only when Thranduil heard movement from the camp below and looked around for Legolas, did they notice they notice the missing elves, hobbits, and boy.

Thranduil leapt up onto the snow bank. “They come. You must find them with haste.” Fíli, Kíli, and Gimli hurried off into the mountain. He jumped back down and motioned for everyone to go back inside.

“Your majesty, you won’t let your elves attack us, will you?” asked Ori, wide-eyed.

“No, but if they do not see the prince by my side, they may lose their arrows without waiting for orders.” Thranduil looked at Ori with sorrow in his eyes, before his back straightened and he strode indoors next to Thorin.

“And if they attack, the Dáin will surely turn on them, breaking their truce,” explained Thorin. “Then there surely be another battle even if our deaths prevent us from seeing it.”

Bard spoke up, “I do not know which side my men are on. Nevertheless, if all three races can stand together even if it is against us, then perhaps hope is not all lost.”

Nori said, “Why do you say ‘us’ and not ‘them?’”

“We are all in this together now, aren’t we?”

The group hurried into the mountain and scattered once inside, some searching for the missing and some gathering weapons before being told to put them back right now. Eventually, everyone was found and made to gather in the entry way whether they wanted to or not. No one remember to shut the doors.

Hamfast, Bilbo, Lindir, and Bilbo were worriedly huddled together. Fíli was trying to comfort Ori, and Tauriel was trying to comfort Kíli. Óin and Glóin were arguing with Gimli, and Legolas was arguing with Thranduil. Dís was scolding everyone that came near her, but especially Thorin and Dwalin. Bard was trying to pull an overexcited Bain down from Nori’s shoulders, but Nori kept spinning out of the way at just the right moment. Bofur and Balin were shouting to get everyone’s attention, but everyone was ignoring them. Dori was trying to hold on to Lobelia who kept pulling away and shouting, “No! I don’t want to go! I won’t leave you. I don’t want to go with any stupid elves! I want to stay here with you!”

Lobelia finally managed to yank her arm away. She turned and ran straight into Gandalf. In all the commotion no one had noticed their company had arrived. Gandalf, Elladan, Elrohir, the Mirkwood captain, and several leaders from Dale stood in the doorway with dozens of troops behind them, all trying to see inside.

Pulling back, Lobelia blinked at the tall wizard and after a moment, began to weep. “Please, don’t hurt them,” she begged, grabbing Gandalf’s hands.

After Lobelia’s outburst there was complete silence in the cave for the space of several minutes as those inside stared at the gathered group waiting outside. Lobelia broke the silence as she cried, “What are you going to do with them?”

From behind the tall elves came a loud, female voice, “Let me through! Move it! I want to see!”

Hamfast perked up. “Bell?” he cried joyfully. “Is that you?” He pulled away from Bifur, who made no protest, only hanging his head in sorrow.

The pretty, young hobbit shoved her way through the crowd and fell into Hamfast’s arms, squeezing him tightly. “Oh, Hamfast, my darling, I’m so glad you’re well! I’ve missed you so much!”

Hamfast said, “I’ve missed you terribly, Bell. Please, you mustn’t be too mad at Bifur. He meant no harm.”

“We’ll deal with that in a moment,” Bell commanded, glaring at Bifur, but her eyes twinkled. “I have something to show you first. Come over here, Esmeralda.”

A soft voice carried through, “Please let me by.” The entire group parted and let the small hobbit through. “Here he is,” she said putting a little bundle in Hamfast’s arms.

“Meet your son,” said Bell proudly. “His name is Hamson.”

Hamfast’s eyes shown with unshed tears of joy as he carefully cradled the bundle in his hands and pulled the blanket back from his son’s face. His face was as bright as the sun as he looked at his newborn child. Everyone gathered close as they could to catch a glance. “I didn’t know you were pregnant, Bell,” Hamfast whispered.

“I didn’t know it myself until after you’d been taken,” answered Bell.

“I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you,” said Hamfast.

“There’ll be others and you can take care of me then,” Bell replied. “Now, hold him while we deal with the rest of this mess that you’ve found yourself in.” She stood up straight and turned to Thorin. “Explain yourself.”

Bilbo walking up beside him, Dwalin said, “It’s not King Thorin’s fault. I was the one who led the some of the others into this business.”

Bell crossed her arms over her chest and asked, “Well, go on. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Dwalin blinked and said sincerely, “I am truly, deeply sorry for all the pain and worry that I have caused everyone. I will work to make things right.”

The twins Elladan and Elrohir pushed their way past Gandalf. Elladan snarled, “You will make things right, dwarf.”

“Or we will have your head,” continued Elrohir. “Now, where is Lindir? We would see him safe.”

“I am well,” called Lindir from across the room as Elrond’s sons shoved their way to him. “I’m not going with you though. You must bring news to my Lord Elrond that I wish to stay here.”

“We will do no such thing,” snapped Elladan, grasping Lindir’s arm. Bofur growled, and Elladan removed his hand, reaching for his sword. Everyone immediately stiffened, tension think in the room.

Then a baby cried from an inner room. Dori took a half-step toward it, but Lobelia yanked him back and shook her head once no.

All at once elves, men, dwarves, and hobbits were turning to one another wondering whose the baby could be. “Can male hobbits bear young?” asked one elf.

“Can male elves?”asked Drogo in return.

Elladan asked loudly, “Who does that babe belong to?” No one responded, and his face darkened in anger.

Dáin glared at his relatives. “Did one of you bring shame upon our family through some foul magic?”

Gandalf stepped up. “Come on now, whose baby is that?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye. “We’re all family and friends here. Don’t be afraid. You can be honest with us.” 

The group from Erebor stared at Gandalf in confusion, while everyone else looked around, worriedly wondering about inter-species genetic possibilities.

It was Tauriel who first understood Gandalf. “The babe is mine,” she claimed, stepping forward, head high.

“It’s mine, actually,” said Legolas with a shrug. “I never would have guessed that it was possible, but there you have it.” When Gimli tried to protest, the elf-prince elbowed him sharply in the head.

“The baby’s mine,” said Lobelia in mock anger just as Lindir claimed it.

After Bain poked him, Bard sighed and dryly said, “No. That is my baby. Honest.”

Bell gave Hamfast a sharp look, but he just shook his head and said, “Nope. Not mine. Nope, nope, nope.”

Kíli piped in, “It’s really my baby.” Dís told him to shut up. Ori giggled nervously.

“Whose baby is it really, Gandalf?” asked Paladin. “I thought only girls could have babies.”

Gandalf stroked his beard contemplatively, “Well, it’s been so long since there’s been this many different relationships between races. I would need to do more research to find out what exactly is possible.”

“What do you suggest we do then, Gandalf?” wondered Elrohir.

“I will just have to marry all of them that want to be married just to be on the safe side,” said Gandalf. “I’m sure everyone acted appropriately, but you know how people gossip.”

Everyone smiled at one another, and Bilbo whispered in Dwalin’s ear, “I told you everything would work out.”

“If I’d have known Gandalf was coming, I would have had more faith,” Dwalin whispered back. They hugged each other closely. 

There were some grumbling among those that had made the long trek up the mountain hoping for a battle or at least a good hanging, but no one was too disappointed.

Gandalf told everyone that he would give them the night to talk things over with their families and decide if they really wanted to be married.


	24. The Joining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone comes to Erebor and there are several weddings.

“If anyone needs my counsel, I shall be lying over here – asleep. Please don’t need me; it’s been a very long day,” grumped Gandalf. Everyone moved away from him and tried to quiet down.

“Come with me; I’ll get you something to eat,” said Bilbo to the hobbits as he led them to the kitchen.

“I can’t believe you came here for us,” said Hamfast, carefully cradling Hamson.

“You didn’t think I would come for you?” asked Bell. “You are a silly hobbit.”

Hamfast smiled. “I’m guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but it was such a long journey, and I traveled by eagle.”

“What was that like?” questioned Paladin.

“Terrifying, cold, and windy,” Hamfast explained with a laugh. “I was so scared at first, but then it just sort of blurred together. I must have drifted off on the way. How was your trip here?”

“Not too bad,” said Primula. “I am ever so glad we had Gandalf and the elves though. I don’t think we would have survived even if we could have found our way.”

“Elladan and Elrohir.” Bilbo wrinkled his nose. “As much as I respect Lord Elrond, I don’t much like his sons. They weren’t very nice.”

“They were kind to us,” said Drogo. “It was probably because you were with dwarves that you saw their less mannerly sides.”

“They could be quite scary when they were mad,” said Primula. “I was always glad they were protecting us.”

Esmeralda reminded everyone about making plans, “What are you planning on doing, Hamfast and Bell?”

Bell looked at Hamfast and said, “What do you want, husband? Do you want to go back to the Shire?”

“I do miss our home, but not nearly as much as I missed you.”

“Do you like it here though?” Bell pressed.

“Not at first, I didn’t, but I do now. Even though it’s really just a fancy cave in a big mountain, I’ve grown fond of it.”

Bell was silent for a moment before she stated, “Let’s stay here then – the both of us.”

“Really?”

“Why not? For a while at least. I don’t want to be away from the Shire forever, but we could stay here for a time.” Bell hugged Hamfast tightly. “Wherever you are, I want to be. I don’t think I can stand anymore time away from you even if I have to share you.”

“I love you, Bell,” Hamfast promised.

“I know you do, darling, but I can see how Bifur feels about you – he loves you too, I don’t know exactly what he feels or how this will all work out, but I think he should be a part of our family.”

“Oh, my darling Bell,” breathed Hamfast and gave her a sweet kiss.

“Let’s go find him then,” Bell said, “and tell him the good news.”

The other hobbits watched silently as Bell and Hamfast holding Hamson approached Bifur who was sitting sadly by himself. Bell said something to the dwarf, and he looked up, face peaceful, and handed Bell something. Bilbo knew it was one of Bifur’s many whittlings of her or Hamfast. Hamfast gently laid Hamson in Bifur arms. For the first time that Bilbo had ever seen, Bifur’s normally placid face broke into a delighted grin.

“I don’t know how it’ll all work out,” Bilbo explained, “but I think they’ll be happy together.”

“Of course they will,” huffed Lobelia, cradling her daughter. “It may be all different kinds, but they all love each other.”

“I’m happy to see that you’re still always right, Lobelia,” teased Primula.

“Obviously,” said Lobelia, rolling her eyes. “Now do you want to hold my little dwobbit or not?” Primula squeaked happily as the little girl was placed in her arms.

On the other side of the dining hall Elladan and Elrohir were arguing with Lindir, who was steadfastly standing his ground.

“He’s a dwarf!” said Elladan. “You cannot marry him!”

“What would our father say?” asked Elrohir.

“I doubt Lord Elrond would care. Honestly, I think he’d be more interested in all the work I’ve been doing in the library,” Lindir said, attempting to change the subject.

“I doubt our father cares about some stupid books.”

“I have to say, I think that you are wrong. This library has some fascinating tomes on history that he may never have seen. When you return, you must tell him all about them.”

“So you’re not coming back then, Lindir?” 

“Correct.”

“Wrong!” snapped Elrohir. “We were sent to fetch you, and we will do our duty.”

“I thought you said that Master Elrond sent you to fetch Gandalf.”

“Obviously, bringing you back was implied.”

“Well, I’m not going. Here, I’ll write you a letter explaining everything to him.”

“You have job in Imladris. You have been missed.”

“I’m sure someone can be found to replace me. I will put some suggestions in my letter.”

“Father, will be mad you didn’t say goodbye.”

“I really didn’t get a chance to, did I? Never mind, I’ll say my farewells in my letter.”

“All right, all right!”

“We get it!”

“But you will come to visit us, won’t you?”

“Obviously, I will. But you’ll have to be nicer to Bofur next time.”

The twins groaned.

As he gave a tour through the mountain, Bard explained his plans to new advisors, elected for him in hope that he would return and they could assist him. He was planning on returning to Dale as soon as he could, so that he could best serve his people.

The people of Dale had fared as well as could be expected during the winter. The dwarves had been helpful, but they may have not been as well off if the elves hadn’t arrived unexpectedly, searching for their king and prince. When the predicament had been explained to all sides satisfactorily (and hadn’t that taken a very long time!), they all decided to stay in Dale until the snow had melted enough to do something.

The elves were able to find enough food, while the dwarves made sure that everyone had suitable shelter. The humans could do little to repay their kindness, but did what they could. Besides when one saw the faces of the elves and dwarves watching the human children run around, one would figure them well paid indeed.

When the hobbits arrived, everyone was amazed by the new arrivals, who quickly fit in with the rest of the group. When news came from scouts that the snow was starting to melt on the mountain, the four races set off with heavy hearts – both worried for the fates of their kin and their new found friendships. Never in centuries had there been a group such as this in all of Middle-earth.

After all of this had been explained to Bard, his heart felt lighter. The worry that had been on his shoulders ever since he had slain the dragon lessened just enough for him to pay mind to the feelings of his own heart.

Bard found Nori in his room. He entered and sat down on the bed next to his friend. “Will you come and live in Dale with me?” he asked.

Nori’s face lit up. “If you’ll have me.”

“I fear that I’ll need your advice frequently. I’ve come to depend on your thoughts a great deal.”

“Then you shall have them,” Nori promised.

“Good. Let’s find Bain and tell him the news.” Bard rose and Nori followed him. “He’ll be beside himself with excitement.”

“That he will. He’s a good lad.”

“He can’t be that good – he’s fond of you.”

Nori stared at Bard in shock before following him. That was the first time that he’d ever heard his serious friend make a joke.

Outside Erebor, Legolas and Gimli were trying to climb to the top of the Lonely Mountain, but Gimli at least was having a difficult time in the snow. “Hold up, Legolas. Your stick legs stride too far and your delicate body doesn’t sink down in the snow as mine does.”

Legolas laughed but waited for the young dwarf anyway. “That’s because you’re short and fat.”

“Ah no, my incredibly rude friend, I am sturdy with a low-center of gravity. A cave troll could not knock me down,” joked Gimli.

“I think a cave troll would be too frightened to try,” said Legolas, scrambling up a boulder and then holding his hand down to pull Gimli up behind him.

“Well... I am… a fearsome warrior,” Gimli huffed as he finally reached the summit.

Legolas sighed happily. “I confess I was thinking of something much crueler, but the view has completely driven it from my mind. I have no interest in anything so trivial up here.”

“I know what you mean; the sight does take your breath away, doesn’t it?” Gimli murmured.

For several minutes the unlikely friends sat together, perched on the peak. They said nothing until Legolas asked, “Do you want to marry me, Gimli?”

Gimli shrugged. “I haven’t really thought about it in a long time.”

Legolas’s laugh echoed like a clear, silver bell, and Gimli’s deep rumble joined him. “Then what did you intend to do with me once you’d caught me?”

“Well, Dwalin and Kíli and the others were going on so about their sweethearts, and I really didn’t want to be left out like I always am. I didn’t want to be thought of as a little kid anymore, so I told Dwalin that I wanted a prestigious trophy for myself. He suggested you.”

“I should really give Mister Dwalin my thanks for that, but he’s probably suffered enough for his punishment.”

“Then once I had you, I realized that I didn’t really have you at all, but you were still stuck with me, so I didn’t care. Then you were so annoying and horrible, but so was I. And now we’re friends, and I’m glad of that.” Gimli smacked the elf on the back.

Legolas jolted forward and insisted, “So you don’t want to marry me now?”

“Not really. Are you mad?”

“Of course not. I’d much rather be friends. Maybe we’ll always stay friends or maybe when we’re both older, our relationship will change into something different.”

“You’re already ancient,” said Gimli standing and stretching.

“I’ll always be sprier than you,” Legolas teased, springing up and leaping from bolder to bolder until he was a dozen yards down the slope. “Hurry up, Gimli! We don’t want to miss everyone else’s drama.”

“I’m coming; I’m coming,” Gimli grumbled. “Wait for me.”

Legolas shouted, “If you don’t hurry up, I’ll leave you up here. And then you’ll die up here, unable to get down.”

“I take it back,” hollered Gimli. “I don’t want to be friends with you anymore. You’re mean!”

“I love you too!” The pair teased each other all the way back to the entrance.

Fíli and Kíli had formally proposed to Ori and Tauriel respectively, had been accepted, and were now in the throne room introducing their fiancés to Dáin.

Dáin shook Ori and Tauriel’s hands and looked them over carefully before saying, “Pleased to meet you both.” Stepping back, Dáin looked around the room as he spoke, “These are strange times. I have met real live Halflings when my old nurse always told me fairytales about them. I have seen an alliance of enemies, displaced men rising proud out of ruin, and love sprouting in the strangest of places.”

Dáin strolled around the room, and the two couples followed him. “And now the heir to the dwarven throne wishes to marry a warrior elf and his brother, a scholar. These are strange times indeed.” Fíli and Kíli tried to not show their indignation. Dáin turned back to them and there was a twinkle in his eye. “I believe these strange times may be good for improving our way of life. We dwarves can be too like the stone, unchanging. But even the toughest rock will one day weather away. So perhaps it is better to grow than to stand forever rigid.”

Turning to look at Thorin who was awkwardly trying to make conversation with a group of elves, Dáin laughed and said, “I think Thorin is learning this. But he’s always been thickheaded. It’ll take him a bit longer.”

Across the room, Thorin tried to explain the meaning in the carvings to the group of elves, but it appeared that their interest was purely from attempting to be polite, so Thorin excused himself. He walked over to Dáin and greeted him. “Do you approve of my nephew’s choices?” he asked.

“They’re odd matches that will be gossiped about for years to come, make no mistake, but I think I like them. Things are changing, Thorin,” Dáin mused.

“They are – too fast for me, I fear,” sighed Thorin.

Clasping Thorin’s arm, Dáin said, “You’ve got to learn to change. Follow your nephews’ example for once.”

“Now, that is a frightening thought.”

“I’m serious. They have found respect, happiness, and love. What political marriage could ever say that?”

“Very few, but you know I’ve resigned myself to this life. Fíli is my heir.”

“That does not mean that you don’t get to be happy,” Dáin pressed, but he knew to go no further. Thorin always got so stubborn when it came to matters of the heart. “Do what you will.”

“Thank you for your advice. It is always appreciated even if I am not the best at showing it.” Thorin moved away, through the crowds of people, hardly knowing where he was going.

His feet did, however, and soon he found himself at Thranduil’s side. The elf-king was getting an update from one of his elves. When the captain saw Thorin approach, he nodded to his king and moved away, giving them some modicum of privacy. “King Thorin,” said Thranduil with a soft smile. “I believe that I will soon be gone and will be troubling you no more.”

“You’ve been no trouble, King Thranduil,” stated Thorin in all seriousness.

“You are kinder than I deserve. I am certain that I have made myself a great deal of trouble.”

“Things got better though, didn’t they?” asked Thorin hopefully.

Again, Thranduil smiled. “Yes, I believe we made a great deal of progress. For our futures, especially. If our three kingdoms are aligned, we will all benefit from the friendship.”

Thorin nodded, keeping any sorrow at the elf-king’s misinterpretation of his words off his face. “Stay as long as you need to settle your affairs. You may be more comfortable doing business with the men here than down in Dale.”

‘I do not think there is much more to do. We planned everything so well with Bard after all.”

“Yes, of course.” Thorin tried to think of anything else to say, but all he could of was, “Please, let me know if there is anything that I can do for you before you leave.”

Thranduil looked at him thoughtfully but only said, “Thank you.” After that he moved away, and his advisors re-surrounded him.

Thorin stared after him then moved away. He was walking back to his room, when he passed Dwalin and Bilbo’s. The door was open, and when the pair saw him, they called him in.

They took one look at his face before settling him in their nicest chair by the fire. Bilbo bustled about, making a fresh pot of tea and bringing him a few slices of buttered bread.

“You talked to the elf-king then?” asked Dwalin, trying to snatch a piece of bread until Bilbo smacked his hand. Thorin nodded.

“What did he say? Did you make yourself really clear?” Bilbo pressed. “Sometimes I think the both of you will never be straightforward with each other unless you’re trading insults.”

“I told him that I didn’t mind having him stay and that I would do anything he needed before he left,” Thorin explained.

“Is that all?” whined Bilbo.

“He mentioned how good it was for all of us that we have an alliance now.”

Bilbo threw his hands in the air and would have gone on a tirade if Dwalin hadn’t wrapped his arms around him and pulled him tightly against his chest. Bilbo took several deep breaths, and calmly asked Thorin where he expected to get with Thranduil if that’s all they talked about.

“What am I supposed to do?” asked Thorin, almost dropping his teacup as he buried his face in his hands. Bilbo snatched the cup. “I need more time.”

“You’ve had months, my friend,” said Dwalin. “You always knew the snow was going to melt someday.”

“I still need more time. He’s an elf, for Mahal’s sake! He is a lofty and unattainable dream. The Arkenstone was easier to obtain than his love could ever be.”

“You do love him then?” Bilbo whispered.

“Curse me, but I do. Ever since I was a young lad and saw him for the first time, I’ve always seen him as priceless treasure, but now I know that that doesn’t even begin to describe him. He’s not one for the likes of me.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Bilbo. “You’re both kings, after all. Some start off with much worse odds than that. More importantly, I know he likes you too.”

“How do you know that?”

“He nice now, not just to you, but to all of us. I’ve heard him practically apologize for his behavior in the past. He does things to benefit you, more than a simple ally would. You’ve softened him up.”

“I fear it is too late for that now. He said that he was leaving soon,” Thorin said, glumly.

“It’s not too late,” Dwalin encouraged him. “Don’t give up yet!”

But Thorin only shook his head. “I need time. Perhaps we both do – to sort out how we feel.” Thorin rose. “Thank you for your company and encouragement, my friends. I have to help Balin organize things for these weddings that are happening sometime soon whenever the wizard is ready.”

“We’ll come help in a bit,” Bilbo replied as they sadly watched their king leave the room.

Dwalin squeezed his hobbit tight. “He’s being his usual stubborn self, isn’t he?”

“I don’t know. This time he seems more helpless than obstinate.”

Dwalin chuckled and said, “Helpless is not a word I would use to describe Thorin.”

“But he is, don’t you see? Even the strongest and bravest and noblest can be uncertain and frightened and embarrassed. In the end, that’s what makes their strength all the more admirable.” Bilbo kissed Dwalin on the cheek and whispered, “Even you, my dear.”

“Do you think things would have worked out if they had more time, like he said?”

“Maybe. They were acting so much better behaved together, playing nice and all most days. They’re both so proud though, I don’t know even if all the time in the world would have made them get together in the end. Perhaps this separation will push things into motion.”

“Might be good in the long run then, after all. But don’t you think they’ll just be pining away for each other in their kingdoms?”

“That’s why I’m going to suggest to Thranduil to invite both Thorin to Mirkwood. I’ll suggest Bard too so that it looks like public relations and all that.”

Dwalin laughed and stood up. “You’re quite my devious, little hobbit, aren’t you?”

Bilbo crossed his arms over his chest and protested, “I’m not devious. I’m only planning on how to help my friends.”

“That’s call plotting, my darling.”

“Oh, hush!” Bilbo cried as he smacked Dwalin on his broad chest. “All right, enough teasing. We need to get dressed; we’ve got a giant wedding to get to.”

“Fíli and Kíli are getting married for certain, though I’ll never believe that she-elf agreed.”

“Kíli wore Tauriel down, I suppose,” said Bilbo with a chuckle as he opened their chest of drawers and rifled through their scant belongs. “I’ll be glad when we have more clothes to wear. These are growing rather bare.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll soon have you decked out in the finest dwarven fashions.”

“Only if you promise to wear hobbit clothes.”

“That'll be fine with me.” Dwalin only shrugged as Bilbo looked at him to see if he was teasing. “Bofur got Lindir to say yes, right?”

“Yes, those two can hardly keep away from each other, never mind how formal and stiff Lindir always seems.”

“Still waters and all that, I suppose. Bard and Nori, then?”

“I haven’t heard. I would have thought Lobelia would have told me, but maybe they’re keeping it quiet.” Bilbo looked his husband over. “You look very nice. Put this coat on, it’ll hide the moth holes in your waistcoat.”

Dwalin put the coat on and then leaned forward to straighten Bilbo’s own coat and snuck in another kiss. Arm in arm, they walked downstairs to the throne room, where Lobelia and Dís had frantically been putting together some last minute decorations.

As they walked into the throne room, a dwarven woman followed by two little dwarves. “Bombur!” the female dwarf called, almost throwing herself on the large dwarf in her excitement.

“Who’s that?” asked Bilbo in delight.

“That’s Bombur’s fiancée. They must have just arrived. Dáin said that they were expecting another convoy in the spring. There’ll probably be a lot of old friends and family members, returning to Erebor.”

“What a wonderful day for them to arrive. I’m so glad that they’ve made it safely here,” said Bilbo.

Another dwarf woman, this one more sedate, walked in and wrapped her arms around Glóin. “Where’s our son?” she asked. “I’ve heard about the trouble he’s gotten himself into. I think his ears need boxing.”

“Go easy on him, my love,” Glóin begged. “He’s very sorry. Besides, the elf isn’t such a bad fellow. He’s a prince.”

“Oh, a prince, is he? Well, I’m so thankful our son has such lofty aspirations.”

“Fear not, my love. They’re only friends.”

“Well, take me to them then, so that I can meet him!”

For the next hour or so, Dwalin went around, greeting old friends and introducing Bilbo. The hobbit got plenty of stares, but most of the dwarves were polite enough. Dwalin’s skill as a fearsome warrior was legendary enough to ensure that.

Once space could be prepared for them, the dwarves who had wintered in Dale and the new arrivals would move into Erebor. Then they would be available to help in the reconstruction. For now, though, they were happy just to visit.

Eventually Gandalf came in and got everyone attention. With him were Thorin, Thranduil, Bard, and Dáin. A cheer broke out at the sight of their leaders. Gandalf quieted the crowd and spoke, his voice calm but loud enough to be heard to the far corners of the cavern. “Greetings, my dear friends. Please gather around and celebrate with us these new unions between men, elves, and dwarves.” Everyone cheered again, even though most of them didn’t know to what he was referring.

Fíli and Ori, Kíli and Tauriel, Nori and Bard, and Bofur and Lindir stood in a row in front of Gandalf as the other three leaders stood to the side. It became obvious a few that marriages were taking place, and the news soon spread through the crowd. There were a few murmurings, and Dwalin kept his eye out for any sign of trouble, but no one dared to complain if a wizard was officiating.

The ceremony was blessedly brief, the couples kissing chastely at the end. They turned and most everyone cheered and were soon swarmed with well-wishers offering congratulations. After that drink and food that had been carried up the mountain was brought out and passed around. Toasts were made, instruments were played, and merriment was had all around.

A space was soon cleared for dancing and a friendly competition of dancing and showing off began. Bofur and Lindir got an elvish and dwarven band going. While Dwalin was engaged in a battle of dwarven footwork, Bilbo had no shortage of partners for everyone liked spinning around the lightweight hobbit. Fíli and Kíli had found some ancient ceremonial swords and were attempting some sword dance, but were mostly making fools of themselves. Legolas appeared to be winning a drinking contest against an entire table of dwarves. Lobelia and Bell watched carefully as their babies were passed from one reverent set of arms to the next. As unattached heroes of the quest, Balin and Óin were popular partners among the few unattached dwarven females. Everyone was having a delightful time, even Thorin, who was persuaded by Dís to bring out his harp.

It was a wonderful evening and all were sad to see it end, but soon every available surface was claimed by some sleeping individual. Gandalf stepped carefully between them, marveling at the affection so quickly sprung up between them.


	25. The Parting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company and friends separate.

The next morning, Bombur and the rest of the cooks depleted Erebor’s final food reserves to feed everyone a big breakfast. After everyone ate, they all hiked down the mountain to Dale. Bilbo loved finally feeling the sun and his back and new spring grass beneath his feet. Best of all was knowing that there was peace and that so many of his friends were happy.

In Dale, Bard was crowned king with all the support of his people. A lot of speeches were made about promising to protect and care for one another, but Bilbo was tired of endless rhetoric and paid little attention. Instead, he sat on the grass and leaned against Dwalin. He wiggled his toes in the green blades and poked Dwalin whenever he started snoring too loudly. It was too fine a day for speeches, but eventually everyone ran out of things to say, and finally work could be done.

Now that there was enough shelter for all the newcomers, seeds needed to be planted now that the last frost was gone. Somehow word got around that hobbits were especially good with plants, and they all found themselves overseeing different fields. Even Bilbo was put in charge of the potatoes, which were easy enough, but if anyone asked him a too difficult question he sent them to Hamfast.

Dwalin and the other members of the Company laughed, but they were soon silenced when Bilbo made them join in. And if the other dwarves had thought of making fun, they thought better of it and began to pitch in. It was after dark when the last row was finally finished, and everyone was exhausted, but it was a very good feeling seeing this physical proof of their future survival.

Two weeks later and things had settled into place nicely. Bard was an excellent king, and his consort/adviser/lookout Nori was his biggest help. Half the dwarves had decided to live in Dale, while the others worked in the Lonely Mountain.

Drogo, Primula, Paladin, and Esmeralda asked if they could stay with Bilbo and the others, and Thorin personally welcomed them.

“We must send home news that we are all well,” reminded Primula.

“I will send an envoy to the Shire within the week, though Elladan and Elrohir leave today for Rivendell, and I’m sure they can be persuaded to carry your letter a bit farther for you,” said Thorin.

“Oh, good idea,” said Primula. “Why are you sending an envoy?”

Thorin cleared his throat. “It’s an official apology. Also, despite the great distances between our two lands, I would like to set up a treaty with your Thain, since the Shire is on the way to Ered Luin. Furthermore, any hobbit that wishes to come will always be welcome in Erebor.”

“That is most generous of you,” said Drogo.

“I shall always be in debt to your kindness,” Thorin replied. “You have always brought me comfort.”

The hobbits grinned and blushed at the dwarf-king’s praise. “We’d better go find Elladan and Elrohir,” said Paladin. “We don’t want to miss them. Hurry with your letter, Primula.”

“Tell me what you want me to put it in,” Primula commanded. “We should send for Bilbo’s things along with our own, if we’re going to be here for several years, shouldn’t we?”

“Yes, someone back home will manage to figure something out,” said Drogo. “I just hope our families won’t be too upset that we’re not returning.”

“If they miss us, they’ll just have to come and visit,” said Esmeralda thoughtfully.

Hamfast chuckled and replied, “After Bilbo, Lobelia, and me, Shirefolk may think that there’s no escape from this place!”

Primula finished her letter and the group found the elf twins and said their farewells. The princes said it was no problem at all to deliver their letter, and if their father didn’t need them for anything else, they could escort the next group of hobbits who wanted to visit, since they had such fun last time.

“Don’t forget my letter,” said Lindir walking into the room. “I’ve explained everything to Lord Elrond in it.”

The princes ducked their heads. “We are sorry that we were so harsh, Lindir,” said Elrohir.

“I know you are, my friends. I will miss you, but not for long it seems. Give my greetings to your dear sister as well.”

“Of course,” said Elladan and they hugged their elf and hobbit friends farewell. “We may see you again before the snows fall, but please remind the dwarves not to send down an avalanche this time, just in case we’re late!”

Everyone laughed merrily as the twins left, their tall horses carrying them swiftly down the mountain’s slope. 

Dáin was the next to leave. A week after Elrond’s sons left, he hugged Thorin and kissed Dís and promised, “I’ll send a wagon full of steel tools as soon as I arrive back in the Iron Hills. Let me know when you need some raw iron, and I’ll send that too.”

“Thank you,” said Thorin. “You will be repaid when our mines are functional once more.”

“Do not worry about that. Take care of my dwarves that have decided to stay and take care of yourselves,” Dáin requested.

“I will do my best,” Thorin promised.

“Don’t forget yourself, Thorin!” He turned to Fíli. “Lad, Thorin has taught you how to be a king, but now you must learn how to run a kingdom. Pay close attention, and I promise you’ll do well.”

Dáin had a lot of others that he had to say farewell to before he finally made it out of Erebor’s heavy doors. Everyone waved goodbye as the Lord of the Iron Hills and his dwarves made their way down the mountain and headed east.

The last group to leave was Thranduil and his Mirkwood elves. While his guard was eager to leave, Thranduil seemed to have many reasons to stay. Bilbo and Dwalin and the others made excuses to keep him around for as long as possible, and Thranduil never declined.

Eventually, they did run out of reasons for the elf-king to still be away from his kingdom and he had to leave. Legolas would be returning with him, dragging Gimli along with both his parents’ permission.

“As long as you’re back in a month or two,” Glóin requested. “Your mother will miss you.”

Glóin’s wife laughed. “Don’t hide behind me, my darling. You’re the one who’s already been whining about being away from your darling son.”

Glóin harrumphed. Óin patted him sympathetically on the back.

Tauriel would be staying in Erebor for a while with Kíli, and Thranduil promised that she would always have a place for her in his guard if she chose to return to Mirkwood.

Bilbo walked over to Thranduil and bowed. The elf-king bowed in return, which made Bilbo flush. “Farewell, my king,” said Bilbo with a bittersweet smile.

“Farewell, my hobbit-burglar,” Thranduil replied with a half-smile. “I thank you for your hospitality. I believe it has put mine to shame.”

“Oh, think nothing of it, please, your majesty. I think we have all learned to make the best of bad situations.”

Thranduil bent slightly and placed his hands on Bilbo’s shoulders and said, “I believe it was you who taught the rest of us that. I never forget that, Mr. Baggins. I look forward to you and your husband’s visit to my kingdom. I promise I will be more solicitous this time around.”

“Thank you, thank you very much,” stammered Bilbo in a fluster. Thranduil rose and walked to Thorin.

“I am grateful that we part as friends,” said Thranduil.

“Yes,” said Thorin, unable to say how much more he wanted than friendship.

Thranduil paused for a moment before saying, “I would also like to extend my invitation to visit Mirkwood to you as well. We have worked together so well these past months, I think we should continue in a similar manner. What do you think?”

“I think that would be wise,” replied Thorin.

“Good. Perhaps we could visit one another every four or five months? Less when times are busy perhaps. Just for a couple of days. We could also trade off the young ones at the same time.”

“Yes, that sounds good. It will give Fíli a chance to practice ruling.”

“Legolas too.” Behind his father, Legolas looked ready to protest, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

“This will be good,” said Thorin.

“Good. Yes. I look forward to your first visit.”

“Yes. I look forward to that too.”

It was painfully awkward. Bilbo wanted to turn away and hide in Dwalin’s arms, but he put on a brave face for his friends and their self-inflicted uncomfortableness.

Finally, Thranduil said his last goodbye and turned to leave. Thorin walked him to the door and stood stiffly by the tall white horse as Thranduil gracefully climbed on. As soon as the group headed away, Thorin strode inside, unable to watch them go.

All the dwarves went back to work, leaving only the remaining members of the Company with Thorin. The dwarf-king’s face was tight, jaw firmly set. Bofur and Dori patted him on the back. Bilbo desperately wished he could think of something encouraging to say, but knew now that it was better to stay silent.

The Company stood together in a circle for a few minutes, taking comfort in their friendship grown strong through adversity that was last for their entire lives. No one said anything, until Gandalf walked over.

“Thorin Oakenshield, why are you so downcast?” scolded the wizard. “You will see Thranduil sooner than you think. Never fear.”

Thorin said nothing and smiled sadly as the group slowly broke apart and headed deeper into the mountain.

Suddenly, there came a clatter on the front steps. Everyone turned to look at Thranduil riding his horse past the doors into the mountain. Abruptly, the elf-king pulled his horse to a halt, but said nothing, only staring at Thorin with a wild look in his eyes.

Thorin strode over to him and stood at his side. “Thranduil? Is something wrong?”

Thranduil shook his head, wind-mussed, blond hair flying about. “No, nothing’s wrong.” He took a deep breath and then blurted, “Thorin, do you want to come to Mirkwood with me right now?”

Thorin blinked up at him, but replied in an instant. “Yes.”

A huge grin pierced Thranduil’s face. “Come on then.”

“You want me to get up on your horse?” Thranduil nodded. “Pull me up then and hurry; everyone’s staring.” Leaning down, Thranduil grasped Thorin’s forearms and pulled. There was a moment of confusion as Thranduil tried to seat Thorin in front of him, while Thorin was angling for behind. Eventually, they settled with Thorin gripping Thranduil tightly around his waist.

The two kings turned to look back at the gobsmacked Company. With a large smile on his face,Thorin shouted, “Fíli, you’re in charge. Do what Balin and Gandalf say. I’ll be back when I get back.” With that Thranduil swung the horse’s head around, and the horse raced out the door and down the Lonely Mountain.

No one said anything. They all just stared at the door in wide-eyed and open-mouthed astonishment. One at a time, they walked to the doorway and gawked.

From behind them, Gandalf in full twinkle mused, “What did I say?”

“I can’t believe it,” murmured Balin. “I just can’t.”

“I’m so glad,” said Ori.

“They deserve to be happy,” agreed Bofur.

“We’ve all earned our happiness, I think,” Dori said.

Everyone nodded in agreement. Dwalin wrapped his arms around Bilbo, who snuggled into his chest as they watched convoy of elves far in the distance leaving. The warm spring sunlight shone brightly overhead, and everyone was filled with joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is finished! Thank you, thank you to everyone who's stuck with me and has encouraged me along the way. I truly, deeply appreciate it! Thank you for all the lovely kudos too - they make me smile!
> 
> This part of their story may be finished, but I've fallen in love with this au, and I'm definitely planning to write more of their stories someday. (We've still got the Ring to get rid of, after all!)
> 
> Thanks again for reading, you beautiful people!


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